


Barbed Wire and Jasmine

by extra_Mt



Series: Barbed Wire and Jasmine AU [1]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Anne Lister is a clown in every sense of the word, Betrayal, Character Death, F/F, Flawed humans, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Vomiting, emotional slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 118,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extra_Mt/pseuds/extra_Mt
Summary: Ambitious and flirtatious, Anne Lister is the most infamous real estate mogul in England. She wants no rival and does not hesitate to play dirty. One day, she meets Ann Walker, who turns out to be the key to her further fortune. But as their relationship progresses, Lister finds herself tangled in the scheme of her own making.





	1. Would you like me to unwrap it?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for this fandom, so most of you don't know my style. I'm notorious for angst. And this piece, too, will be pretty angsty. (Will have a happy ending, though) Proceed with caution :) Trigger warnings will be at the beginning of every chapter.
> 
> TW in this chap: Vomiting right at the beginning

Anne Lister had always been a law-abiding citizen--

Okay, let's scratch that. Starting from the beginning. 

Anne Lister was, as far as her criminal record was concerned, a law-abiding citizen. Never been ticketed, never been arrested. A model citizen. But now, even as a police siren howled and their blue lights blinked in the rear-view mirror of her car, her legal reputation was the least of her problems. 

The day she hit brakes for the police was the last day Lister called herself a proud human being. Having said that, she couldn't keep going like this. That much she knew. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead and rolled down her eyebrows. Her vision became blurry. Her stomach churned. She couldn't keep going like this by any means because--

She turned the steering wheel and hit the brake pedal, diagonally parking between cheap cars. She stumbled out onto the pavement. In front of her, behind a layer of haze, some kind of a building stood with an open door. The sound of siren was no more. But someone shouted at her, she thought, as she shuffled inside. 

“Hello, miss-- miss?"

Lister ignored the clerk at the front desk and walked past it. The inside was one vast hall with a high ceiling. Not so many people, only a handful. Her unsteady gaze searched the place, for _that_ sign, which she located on her left. 

She took a few trembling steps, but that was the end of it. The contents of her stomach came up. Making her hiccup once, it pulled the mighty Anne Lister down on her knees. By luck, there was a trash bin just outside the corridor to the lavatory. She stuck her head in it until all of the vile thing left her system. 

Liberation. Her senses slowly began to come back to normal. 

A couple of footsteps stopped behind her. 

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going, sir?"

Lister raised her head and threw a humorless look at the police officer, who recoiled visibly. 

"Oh, Miss Lister, I'm terribly sorry--" Officer Belcombe glanced down at the trash bin. "Are you alright, ma’am?"

Lister stood up, hooking her fingers under the high collar of her shirt to fix it. "Must be the seafood I had this afternoon, Steph. Have you gained weight again? Should cut back on these donuts, perhaps."

Officer Belcombe gave a clumsy smile, which deflated slightly when he met his partner’s gaze. "Um-- Miss Lister, ma’am, were you aware that you were going 70 km per hour on 48 streets? " He sounded apologetic. "And that you ignored two red lights?"

"And practically parking in the middle of the road," his female partner said. 

Lister looked the other officer straight in the eye, though not glaring as she would at a man. "Oh, did I? Shameful. But you see, officer, I was rather preoccupied."

"With…?"

Lister gestured at the bin. 

"Are you under the influence of alcohol?" the woman said.

The question was preposterous. Lister took large steps until she towered over the officer, their faces centimeters away. Close enough for the officer to smell the lack of alcohol in her breath. That seemed to convince the officer, if not intimidated. 

It was when a well-groomed, dark-skinned man inserted himself. "Ah, good afternoon, officers. Is everything alright here?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Splendid," Lister said. "Apologies for the disruption. Are you"-- she took the surroundings in and concluded that it was an art gallery--"the owner of the place?"

"Yes, I am. I--"

"Anne Lister." She gave him a firm handshake. "Of Shibden Group."

“Yes. Of course.” His tone became even more humble.

“Again, I offer my sincerest apology for any inconveniences caused. But you will be relieved to know I was able to contain everything in here." She made a great gesture to the bin. 

The eyes of the owner widened behind his glasses. "Oh, you mean--"

"So, let me get this straight, Miss Lister," Officer Belcombe said. "You broke more than one traffic law, because you were feeling a bit queasy?"

"Well, I couldn't have possibly gotten sick in my car. It's a Bugatti.”

“Yes, a very nice car, indeed. But you could have pulled over and done it on the pavement, perhaps?”

“And tarnish this beautiful city? No, never. There's nothing I hate in the world more than London in filth. We are not living in New York, for Lord’s sake."

"So, you'd rather break the law." 

"Things I'd do for love and beauty."

Officer Belcombe shook his head in defeat. "We still need to give you a ticket, ma’am. We cannot _not_ do anything. It usually costs one much more."

"I completely understand that, Steph. Whatever you need to do."

"We will wait in the carpark. Please, come out when you are ready." 

The two officers left, tipping their hats to the owner of the gallery. 

Lister turned around to the owner. It was only then when she noticed that next to him stood a woman, whose gaze was fixed on the bin. 

“Well, I'm off,” Lister said. “In regard to the bin, in case I needed to replace it--” Out of the jacket pocket, she took a leather business card holder and gave a card to him.

The owner took it with a hesitant smile. “Ma'am, it's really not a bin…” 

"Hmm?” Lister frowned at the so-called not-bin. 

It sure did look like a bin, though. An old-timey, round, metallic container with splashes of paints all over it. Sure, it seemed slightly out of place in such an elegant place. Other than that, however, nothing seemed to be special about-- A plaque on the wall above it caught her eye, and she did a triple take at it. 

_ One man's trash, A. Walker, 2019 _

So, it was a bin. But not really a bin. 

She contained her panic well. Anne Lister was never one to panic. 

"Interesting," she said to herself before turning to the owner. “I would like to buy it.”

“Oh, thank God--”

“You don't have to,” the woman next to him spoke for the first time.

Lister looked at her. "Pardon me?"

"I mean, it has your…”

"Yes, it does. That is precisely the point.” She turned back to the man. “But I like to believe this accident of mine does not depreciate the piece. I'd pay full price. And worry not, I’ll have my PA come and clean up tomorrow if not today."

"How wonderful!" The owner said. 

Lister looked at her wrist watch. Quarter to five. 

"Shall I put my address now? I have a rather pressing issue waiting for me outside at the moment."

The owner led her to the front desk to fill out an order form. Lister walked out of the gallery with her usual swagger, had a chit-chat with the officers, and drove off in her Bugatti. 

… 

Fortnight after the incident, the unpleasant memory no longer came to Lister’s mind. Her life was hectic, to say the least. If it hadn’t been for the occasional inquiries from the gallery owner himself as to when the purchased piece could be delivered, the incident would have sunken into oblivion by now. No doubt.

Lister sat up in bed in her boxer shorts and a tank top. Another figure stirred behind her, planting a kiss on her shoulder before getting out of bed.

“Got to go. The evening shift starts in an hour’s time.” The woman--Officer Berry, as Lister liked to call (not that she couldn’t recall her first name)--put on her knickers. 

“Any plan to handcuff anyone tonight?”

The woman leaned in. “You, if you don’t abide by the traffic law.”

“Tempting.”

“You truly are shameless, Miss Lister.”

“Nothing I’ve never been told before.”

The officer shook her head with a smirk. She went outside the bedroom, returning with her trousers and jacket on, and gave Lister a quick peck on the lips. 

Lister's hands slithered down her body and ended their journey on her buttocks. “Send Steph my regards, and keep an eye on him. His family has a long history of cardiac diseases. He cannot gorge himself on donuts and--”

The officer laughed and kissed her again. “I will. Give me a bell, will you?”

“I can certainly try, yes.” Lister walked her to the entrance door, which directly led into the elevator. “Go kick some asses, gorgeous.” She threw a wink as the elevator door closed. 

Yes, she could ring her again, as soon as she found the piece of paper with her number on it. If not, 911 would do. 

“Argus!”

A grey Scottish deerhound came scampering right away.

Lister gave him a scratch behind his ear. “Hungry?” She went to the kitchen and fixed him a plate filled with meat and vegetables. “When you are done, we could go running together. Would you like that?”

The doorbell chimed. 

“Well, don’t leave the green beans,” she said to the dog before treading down to the door. “Did you forget somethi--”

But standing in the elevator was a different woman, eyes wide at the sight of Lister in nothing but her undergarments.

“Shite.” Lister closed the door in her face. But quickly realizing that the elevator would likely to go back down, she opened it and beckoned the woman in. “Please, come in. I’ll be right with you in a moment.”

Running back to her bedroom, she threw on the clothes scattered on the floor and combed her hair back. As if nothing had happened, she then stalked back into the hallway. 

The woman had entered, though still standing meekly by the door. There was a cart next to her, with something large in bubble wraps on it. 

Argus rushed to give the _ new friend _ a sniff, a piece of meat perched on his nose. The woman flinched at the sight of him.

“Argus, drop it,” Lister said. “Go finish your meal.” When the dog obeyed her commands (the first one anyway), Lister turned back to the other woman. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

“Oh-- No. Well, my cousin’s dog once bit me when I was a teenager.”

Up close, Lister could finally study her features. Her eyes were blue, lips rosy. Very slight underbite. And freckles. Lister had always found freckles irresistibly sexy.

“That’s a shame. But such ill-mannered behavior is rarely the dog’s fault, but the owner’s. My dog would never dream of hurting you.”

The woman smiled. Still, with flushed cheeks, she couldn’t seem to look Lister in the eyes. And Lister wasn’t dumb enough to attribute it to her charms.

“Well, how silly was it of me earlier, right?" Lister said. “I thought you were someone else. How could I help you, miss?”

“Oh-- I came to deliver this.” The woman placed her hand on the bubble-wrapped object. “Mr. Khan-- The owner of the art gallery told me that you’d be home today.”

“Ah, yes. Finally.”

“Where shall I put it?”

Lister led her into the living room. She looked around, wondering how exactly that trash bin would blend in with her sophisticated decor. “Let’s put it right in this corner. Here, every guest could have an opportunity to appreciate it.”

The woman moved the cart to the corner and wrapped her slender arms around the bin.

“Do you need help with that?” Lister said.

“No, I’m good.” The woman, with care and precision, unloaded it off the cart. “Would you like me to unwrap it?”

Now, there was something very alluring about the way she said _ unwrap-- _But it would be a projection on Lister’s part.

“No, I can do that myself.” Offering a hand, she flashed her patented dazzling smile. "Anne Lister, of Shibden Group." 

The woman took her hand gently. "Hi, Ann Walker."

Lister tested the name on her lips. "Sounds awfully familiar, Miss Walker. Have we met before?"

"Oh, I'm the"--Ann gestured to the non-bin bin--"artist. I was there when you... you know."

The memory came back in a flood. Was Miss Walker the woman who stood next to the owner? Lister had thought she was fine after emptying her stomach. But apparently not. In the usual case, such a lovely woman would never escape the attention of hers. 

"Charming,” Lister said to herself before laughing it off. “Well, how embarrassing is this? I usually don’t get motion sickness. If anything, my driving gets other people queasy. But I had just returned from an afternoon party on a cruise ship, and-- Good Lord, as much as I adore the ocean, my body cannot seem to stand her for a minute. Too wild for my liking.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Lister waved it off. “I am grateful now, though. As embarrassing as it was, I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

Ann smiled with a touch of red in her cheeks. And Lister knew that this time, her charms could take credit for it.

“Now, tell me, Miss Walker. Why are you, the artist, delivering your work yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t really like having other people handle my work,” Ann said as if it was an awkward secret. “I once made a mistake of letting them handle my painting. And they made a scratch by accident. It was insignificant enough, but it was an area I really worked hard on, so…" 

Ann fidgeted a lot as she spoke. Regardless of whether it was her nervous habit or not, Lister found it fetching nonetheless. 

“So, you paint as well? A woman of talent.”

“Not anymore. I'm experimenting with other media. I tried hard to improve as a painter for years and years. But I just find that--”

Lister rested a gentle hand on Ann’s fidgeting ones. “You don't have to justify yourself to me, Miss Walker.” She looked into her eyes until a bashful smile crept across Ann’s face. “So, will you please tell me what messages this piece of yours conveys?”

“I wanted to communicate the total subjectivity of art, that to some people, it is art, and to others, it's trash.” Her eyes were mostly trained on the piece, but Ann threw her a quick glance here and there, as if looking for approval.

“Well,” Lister said. She waited for Ann to lock eyes with her again. “I like it.”

A furrow appeared, however, on Ann's brow. “You didn’t have to buy it, I told you. You only bought it because you got sick in it. I know that. Mr. Khan, too, he was only too polite to refuse to give me a spot--”

“Hey, hey. What are you talking about? Look at me.” Lister took her hand, put the other hand under Ann’s chin to tilt her head up. “You are good. Yes, I did puke in it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are a woman with an abundance of talent-- No, don’t look down.” She again gently lifted Ann’s face. “In fact, I’d love to visit your studio some time. I’m positive you have more work that fascinates me.”

Another grimace of uncertainty flashed across Ann's face. Her eyes searched for falsehood in Lister's, but seemed to find none. A smile slowly returned. “Really?”

Lister smiled. “Pinky promise.” 

Ann laced their pinkies together with a shy smile.

…

Later that day, Lister unwrapped the delivered art as she sipped a glass of wine. 

As it turned out, the non-bin bin had more details inside that she had failed to notice the first time. Pieces of wood glued to the inner wall to make a spiral stairs. Some figurines of princesses and soldiers standing on some steps, some others at the bottom among used paint brushes and enigmatic stress balls. 

Lister never understood the appeal of abstract art, and staring at this piece reinforced the stance. Taking one of the stress balls out, she tossed it for Argus. Good thing she hadn’t asked Ann to unwrap it earlier. It would have been a challenge to conjure up convincing compliments on the spot-- Not impossible for the ever-charming Anne Lister, though.

But the promise to visit her studio still stood. Lister was a woman of her words. And who knows? Perhaps, with a good amount of charms and charisma, it wouldn’t be necessary to offer compliments. At least, not on her art. Despite having seen Lister puke and answer the door in knickers, Miss Ann Walker hadn’t seemed to be put off by her. That had to mean something.

Lister took her smartphone out and googled Ann Walker. Not to be creepy, but to know the address of her studio. To her surprise, Miss Walker had a wikipedia page about her. More surprising was that the article had more than a couple of sentences. 

Born in West Yorkshire like Lister. Twelve years younger. Two siblings. Alma mater, Royal College of Art. Now based in London. 

Dull. Insipid.

But the last sentence made Lister almost spit out her wine.

_ Walker is related to Edith Rawson, the chairwoman of the Rawson’s _.

Interesting.

The Rawson’s was a real estate company in London that happened to rival Shibden Group, of which Lister was the CEO. It had seen significant growth in the last several years. All thanks to the new president, Christopher Rawson, a son of Edith. Lister had been trying to acquire the company for a while now, but to no avail. Christopher was a cunning man, a bell end whose best friend was Piers Morgan. He would never willingly agree for the acquisition and consequently have Lister as his boss. 

But then, entered Miss Walker. A game changer, a significant piece in her pursuit to greater power. As big as the Rawson’s was, it was still a private company. Most of the shares of stock were held by the family members. Some of it must be, surely, in the hands of Miss Walker. Not much, probably, since Ann didn’t seem to be the type to be deeply involved in business. She looked too native and soft for that.

Still, should Lister tame Ann, it would give her a chance to get close to Edith Rawson. If she could bypass Christopher, a takeover wouldn’t be such a far-fetched idea. Then, after the chairwoman, the Rawson’s board of directors. Although a hostile takeover was not illegal, it was not something Lister or her own board of directors would be pleased with. This softer approach would be much better. 

But she must be careful. She must not let this scheme known. 

She must endeavor to make Miss Walker fall for her, beyond the point of no return.


	2. That thing is long behind me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so thrilled to receive such encouraging words and reviews. ty!
> 
> change in the rating came quicker than anticipated (I just forgot about the smut in this chapter)
> 
> I seemed to confuse Christopher Rawson with Jeremiah in the first chapter. It's been fixed.

The studio was located in a posh residential area of Kensington. Twenty minutes on foot from Lister residence in Notting Hill according to Google Map. She made it in fifteen. It was a two-storey house with a terrace on the second floor, as were the rest of the houses in the neighbourhood. 

Ringing the doorbell, Lister patted her jacket smooth and fixed her high collar. Her new men’s cologne wafted through the air. Just a drop of a clean, yet alluring scent. Any woman with functioning olfactories would swoon in an instant. 

The door opened a crack, and the surprised face of Ann Walker peeked out. “Miss Lister.”

“Miss Walker.” Lister flashed a smile. “I was just passing and remembered about our promise. May I come in?”

The door opened wider, presenting Ann in a simple T-shirt and overalls.

Well, well, well.

“Promise?”

“Yes, that I would visit your studio. Do you fancy Godiva?” She showed a bag of chocolate in her hand. 

Ann invited her in. They walked together through the hallway into the living room. It looked warm and homey as opposed to the posh exterior. And very quiet. Living alone?

“Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll make some tea,” Ann said and went over to the kitchen.

“A very nice house you have, Miss Walker. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t interrupt anything. How would you like your tea?”

“Black, please.”

Ann came back with two cups of tea, one black, the other with milk and possibly sugar. “I was just working upstairs, in my studio. Oh-- I should probably change into something more sensible. I’m sorry.” She tried to leave, but Lister stopped with a hand on Ann’s.

“You look very lovely. I’d rather you didn't waste your time on something you don’t need to do, and stay here with me instead.”

The colour red crept up Ann’s neck as she nodded. 

They sat in the couch side by side, knees almost touching. 

Lister could see freckles spread across the bare skin of her arms and neck. The urge to run her fingers across the skin washed over her. She clutched the arm of the couch. Upwards, the intensity of Ann’s blue eyes were staring at her.

Lister raised an eyebrow with a soft smile. 

Slowly, Ann grinned and shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d come. I didn’t think you really meant it when we made that promise.”

“Even though we pinky-promised?” Lister gave a mischievous pout. “Am I that untrustworthy to you?”

“No, that’s not-- I’m sorry.”

“Absolutely no need to apologise.”

“You are a rock star. Everybody in London knows who you are even if they don’t know anything about business. And it’s just hard to swallow that you found me interesting enough to pay me a visit.”

“Well, I find it hard to swallow that _ you _have such a poor opinion of yourself.” Lister took her hand, resting them on her own lap. “All these sorts of harsh things that you say. Where on earth do they come from?”

Glancing down at their connected hands, Ann seemed to momentarily lose her train of thoughts. “Just… My family. Ever since I was a child. They don’t say anything, but I could-- still can feel their disappointment permeating rooms every time I see them.”

The Rawson family was part of one of the oldest family trees in Europe, most of the family members actively taking public roles. Politicians, high-ranking military officials, international actors, and the like. The Walkers must be a bunch of high achievers, too. 

But Lister didn’t want to reveal her knowledge about Ann’s family. If it had to happen, she was going to maneuver Ann into acknowledging it herself. 

“What does your family have to judge you?” 

Ann’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “They are… elites, in various fields. And here I am, a failure. Invalid. Good for nothing.”

“You are not a failure. You make wonderful art.”

“Art is trash.”

“You got accepted into Royal College of Art right after high school and graduated without repeating the same year. That’s a significant achievement.”

“It’s only because the president of the college was a good friend with my father-- How do you know those things?”

Oops.

“Wasn’t it on your website? I skimmed it when I was trying to find this place’s address.”

It didn’t convince Ann right away, but she didn’t refute it, either. 

After that, Lister managed to steer the conversation to lighter topics regarding Ann’s life. How long she had been an artist (since her childhood), what artists were her inspirations (Jackson Pollock, Yayoi Kusama, and one more artist Lister didn’t know), what her hobbies were (reading and going to art museums).

Cliché. Mind-numbing. 

But Lister kept up an attentive, charming pretence. It wasn’t such a pain. She wondered how the freckled skin of her neck would bruise if she sank her teeth into it. At one point, she even caught Ann's eyes fixated on her hand, where her fingertips were drawing circles on the wooden arm of the couch. 

How cute.

"My eyes are up here, Miss Walker."

Ann's eyes snapped up. And her face turned a deep shade of red in a flash. “So, anyway, yes. I'd love to travel around the world someday, to see art."

"Have you been oversea before?"

Ann nodded. "I've been to America as a child, and France when I was in college. Have you been to Louvre, Miss Lister?” 

“Louvre? Yes, the museum. The art there is exquisite.”

“Which section did you enjoy the most?”

The cafeterias, where she could pick up locals and tourists as she pleased. “Gothic art, probably. Renaissance is always intriguing, too.”

But Ann stared at her with a growing grimace. She looked down. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? You're checking your watch often. Would you like to go?”

“No, no.” Lister leaned forward, cursing herself for her obliviousness. “I was just thinking-- Tell me the truth. Did you want to kill me when I puked in your art?”

The question seemed to do the trick as Ann no longer looked despondent, albeit at a loss for words.

“No, I was-- I was in shock, I think. I couldn’t even entertain any thought whatsoever. I had never had anyone… do that to my art piece before.”

“Well, I had never done that to anyone’s art. You’re my first.” She batted her eyelashes.

A smile spread across Ann’s face. “We are a match, then.”

“We are, aren’t we?”

As their laughter died down, the air thickened with something other than sadness or boredom. Their faces were only centimeters away. Lister caught Ann’s eyes flicker down to her lips. How easy. Leaning a little bit closer, and their lips could meet.

In that moment, however, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The screen displayed Mariana’s name. Classic. Always in the way. Lister swiped her thumb across it and declined the call. 

But Ann had already pulled back a little, looking down, her fingers picking at her bottom lip. The tension in the air dissolved.

“Didn’t you have to take that?” Ann said.

“No. You’re more important.” Lister put a hand on Ann’s thigh and gave a light squeeze. “Now, do you want to show me your studio?”

…

Lister purchased a couple of paintings on the spot, just to boost Ann’s confidence. Small investments. Still abstract, Pollock's influence seemed too evident across the canvases. Perhaps, what Ann had said wasn’t way off target-- She got accepted and graduated from the art school only by virtue of her father’s connections. But these pieces were, at least, better than the non-bin bin, which Argus now seemed to think was his toy box. 

Their friendship was off to a good start. All according to her master plan. Miss Walker had seemed utterly enamored with and, dare she say, thirsty for her. If this could go on without any unexpected obstacles, Lister estimated she could have Ann in her bed on their third or fourth meeting. Or later than that, if Lister deemed it too easy and needed to build a stronger sense of anticipation for the sake of Miss Walker. From then on, well, there was no need for a plan.

She tapped her pen against the page of her diary, slouching in her chair in the office. Keeping a journal had always been her means of catharsis, equally effective as sex. Not on FaceBook like her sister liked to do, though, but on paper, in private. She did not see the benefits of sharing her daily life with an uncertain number of so-called friends online. And more than anything else, it soothed her to just move her wrist, even if not for sexual purposes. 

The intercom beeped. “Mrs. Lawton’s here to see you, ma’am,” Eugénie said. 

“Show her in.” Lister put the diary away in the drawer and checked the time. Half an hour until the next appointment. 

The black-clad figure of Mariana sauntered through the door. 

“Mariana, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I happened to be in the neighbourhood for a funeral. Thought I’d drop by.”

“Of Charles?”

“Sadly, no. His nephew.”

“My condolences.”

“On the deceased or Charles?”

“Both.”

With a smirk, Marianna took off her gloves and put them on the desk. She rounded the desk and sat in front of Lister. "You didn't return my call the other day."

Lister put a hand on her knee that was barely visible under the hem of the black dress. “Did you miss me?” 

Marianna leaned in. “Did _ you _miss me?”

“I asked you.”

“Someone’s grouchy.” Marianna threw her legs on either side of Lister and wrapped her arms around her neck. “I can help you unwind, you know.”

Under the morbid clothing was purple lingerie. No doubt she had planned on coming over. Lister quickly shoved her hand under the dress, tracing the intricate laces of the underwear with her fingertips. She looked at the clock on the desk.

“I don’t have much time for you now,” Lister said in her ear. “And I’m not particularly in the mood to play nice.”

Mariana’s breathing quickened. Lister regarded it as a consent before sneaking her hand under the laces. Surely enough, her fingers became slippery right away. Her teeth sank into her collarbones, adorned with pearls, over and over again. Within five minutes-- Four minutes and a half, to be precise, she had Mariana spasming above and around her. Not record-breaking, but satisfying enough.

Taking her fingers out, Lister brought them to Mariana’s lips and watched her suck on them with shameless eagerness. Then, they shared a kiss for the first time that day. 

As her breathing calmed down, Mariana nuzzled her neck. “Is this the cologne I gave you?”

Lister nodded. “I like it. Women like it.”

“Of course, they do.” Mariana planted a kiss on the skin under her ear. “If I was still twenty three, this scent alone could get me going for another couple of rounds.”

Annoyed, Lister pushed at her. “Get off me.” 

“Don’t you mean, _get me off_?”

“I don’t have time for your sass, not today, not ever. You got your gratuitous orgasm. Now, the door’s that way.”

With a puff of air, Mariana stood up and smoothed out her dress. But she still showed no sign of leaving as she opened the pantry drawer and helped herself with chocolate bon-bons. Expected. At least, Lister could now work on her papers. 

“Haven’t seen this one before. What’s it supposed to be?”

Lister looked up to find Mariana in front of Ann’s painting on the wall. “It’s abstract art, Mariana,” she said from her desk. “It’s not supposed to be anything.”

“Since when are you into abstract art?”

At this, Lister couldn’t help a grin. She stood up and joined Mariana, hugging her from behind. “I have a new project. A very important one.”

“Do you now?”

“There’s this girl that I met, well, at an art gallery on North End Road. This is her painting, but it’s not the interesting part obviously. What’s interesting is that she happens to be related to the Rawsons.”

Mariana turned around in her arms. “The Rawsons? Jeremiah and Christopher and…”

Lister nodded.

Cogs and wheels turned inside Mariana’s head, deepening the furrows on her brow. They exchanged more silent looks. More cogs turning. 

At last, Mariana let out a sigh. “No, no. My God--” She freed herself from the embrace. “I wish you hadn’t told me that, Freddie. You know the Rawson’s just gave Charles a promotion. What am I supposed to do with this information? Do you have any idea how excruciating it is to be an unwilling corporate spy?”

“You asked. I answered. Jesus, Mariana.”

Mariana went to the pantry and got more chocolates. “So, what, you’re going to inveigle this Rawson girl into becoming a spy for you just like me?”

“Alright, first of all, her name is Miss Walker, not Rawson. Second of all, we were already together when you decided to marry Charles and consequently became a bridge between me and the Rawson’s. So, it’s technically a false statement to say that _ I _made a spy of you. Third of all, calling it espionage is highly inappropriate as it implies I encourage you to engage in illicit activities, when in truth, I simply make very occasional inquiries as to how your industrious husband is doing. Surely, it's not illegal to be concerned about the health of the husband of your lover. And fourth of all--" She threw her hands up in the air and laughed. "Why would I go to such a great length, when I could simply make her my wife and become part of that family--”

“Whoa.” Mariana put up a hand and let out a huff of disbelief. “Marriage? Are you serious?”

“What?”

In silence, they stared at each other for a moment or two.

“Nothing. Just--” Mariana said. “Is she into women, to that extent, I mean?”

“You don't have the right to doubt. Don't you remember being disgustingly straight before me?”

“What happened to the ‘I solely intend to marry someone I love’ thing?”

Lister walked back to the desk. “I was young then. Naive. My ambition was running in the wrong direction.”

“Oh, in the wrong direction.”

“And then, your blissful marriage with Charles slapped me out of my ludicrous fantasies. So, thank you, truly. That _ thing _is long behind me.” Lister plopped back down in her chair.

Silence stifled them both. Mariana’s sigh echoed along with the rustling noise of the chocolate wraps.

“You know I married him to save your company,” Mariana said in a calmer voice. “Where else could I possibly get the money for investments, hmm?”

“I would’ve found a way. Gone into debt or whatever necessary. I would’ve told you so had you just asked me before accepting his proposal.”

"Yes, and I'm sorry. That's why I've been saying we could be together when he died. And then, you go on to tell me you're trying to marry someone else."

"Maybe I've gotten tired of waiting."

"I don't care who you sleep with, Freddie, because I know you'll come back to me in the end, but--"

"That's very generous of you." Lister marched to the alcohol cabinet.

"--But if you are someone else's, it's an entirely different conversation."

"Then, so be it."

Lister poured herself a glass full of Gentleman Jack, the go-to brand whenever she and Mariana argued. Run-of-the-mill, as opposed to the rest of the cabinet. But she had liked it since her young adulthood, and nobody could stop her from enjoying something non-illegal. 

With a sigh, Mariana put her glove on. “Well, then… Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course, I am.”

Mariana kissed her on the cheek and walked out. The bitter-sweet savor of the whiskey burned her throat. 

She recorded the colour of the lingerie in the journal.

… 

Her mood recovered by the evening, as it always did regardless of the type of argument she had with Mariana. 

But one thing she’d said stuck in Lister’s mind.

_ Is she into women to that extent? _

It was true Lister could lure any consenting-age woman into bed with a single wink. Still, they would always leave in the morning, back to their _ man _, only to give her a bell when they needed a toy. It never bothered her. 

But not in this case. She wouldn't have that. 

When in doubt, a little bit of research. 

Online was a wonderful place. Within several minutes, it revealed that Miss Walker had an Instagram account. The photos were mostly of her work, nature photos, occasional reposts from other artists’ accounts, and so forth. There were a couple of photos of Ann with another woman. Her sister, as revealed in the descriptions. But not a single selfie or, more importantly, anything that implied the presence of a significant other regardless of the gender. 

However, Lister wasn't one to be easily convinced. She continued to scroll down to be absolutely sure. And near the bottom, after more than three hundred photos, she stumbled across _ the _ post. 

It was of Ann and her sister smiling at the camera. Around them were rainbow flags everywhere, and Ann was wearing a rainbow temporary tattoo on her cheek. Baby dyke Ann Walker at Pride London. How charming. 

There was more to the photo set. Lister swiped to the left and again nearly spat out her wine. 

It was a picture of Lister herself, standing between Ann and her sister, her arms thrown around their shoulders. Still in her early-thirties, she had her mohawk dyed vibrant electric blue. Her fashion choices were absolutely horrendous. Who would match a perfectly good T-shirt with a tie? Shane bloody McCutcheon. Oh, the dark memories. 

From her neck hung a necklace with a red gemstone. Mariana had bought her that as a birthday gift. Their relationship had ended before Lister's next birthday, and she had begun to dress only in black, including her hair. So, this photo must've been taken a month after the gift, when she was still happy. 

And there she was, posing with Miss Walker.

_ #tbt Pride London 2009 with my big sis. Had the best time of my life. The highlight was meeting Anne Lister. Sweeter and taller than I thought! What an honour to breathe the same air with you, Miss Lister, even for a second. & Thank you for being the biggest inspiration for me to accept who I am_.

Interesting.

Of course, Lister didn’t remember meeting them in the slightest. But Ann's infatuation went further back than she had expected, and it didn't seem to be any less strong now. Well, it might be the easiest scheme ever, so easy it almost made her feel pathetic. 

Lister checked her schedule. Pride in London was, as luck would have it, next week. There wasn’t an occasion more suitable to win the heart of Miss Walker.

She typed in a message on her smartphone.

_ Miss Walker. I was wondering if you are free next Saturday? I'm invited to London Pride parade. I'd love for you to be my date_. 

The message was seen in half a minute, but the response came much later. 

**Miss W:** I'd love to, but are you sure? There must be lots of people dying to be your date. 

_ You are right, there are. And out of these people, I choose you. _

_ I have to get on a float at 12 and then give a little speech afterwards. But would you like to have brunch before that? _

**Miss W:** Yes, that’d be lovely. What shall I wear?

_ Anything you like. I'm wearing a rainbow jacket, just for reference_.

**Miss W:** I don't have anything rainbow.

It wasn't a rare thing, Lister supposed, for a queer person not to have any LGBTQ+ merchandise.

_ It doesn’t have to be rainbow. But if you don't mind, I'd love to buy you a dress._

It took a lot of convincing, but Lister eventually managed to have Ann agree to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shoutout to greekdemigod for being a huge inspiration. this story wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for your Nothaag. cheers


	3. Shall we toast to that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to the podcast Shibden After Dark. Their in-depth analyses helped me greatly in constructing this story.

On the day of Pride, Lister marched across the city in her galactic rainbow jacket that she only wore for this day. The streets exploded with colours, flags flattering overhead. The passers-by recognised her and greeted her, and Lister invested a rather big amount of time for pictures. She had left her house earlier for this very reason. 

Still, when she arrived at Ann’s house, it was only five minutes before the scheduled time. As she was about to ring the doorbell, the door swung open. Ann greeted with a bashful smile, clad in a pastel rainbow dress that ended just above her knees. Sleeveless, of course. 

“Miss Walker.” Lister tipped her bowler hat. “You look a picture. How do you like the dress?”

“It’s lovely. I don’t know how it looks on me, though--”

“Let’s get out and let other people be the judge of that.” 

Lister took her hand and gently led her out of the house. After walking down the doorsteps, she offered Ann an arm to lock. In her high heels, Ann was now about the same height. Perhaps, even taller. So, Lister held her head up high and walked slowly for her.

“Everyone’s turning their head around to look how beautiful you are.”

Ann looked around in agitation. “I’m sure they are looking at you.”

“They are looking at us, how great we look together.”

That seemed to put Ann at her ease a little. 

“So, excited? Nervous?”

“Both,” Ann said. “I've only been to a pride once with Elizabeth, my older sister, before she got married. I was nineteen or eighteen. Um… Well, you probably, definitely don’t remember this, but I met you then, at the pride.”

“Did you?” Thank God. One fewer secret to pretend not knowing. “I knew it. I told you, you looked familiar. A pretty face like yours doesn’t escape my memory so easily.”

Her cheeks reddened as she ducked her head. 

“I made a reservation at a restaurant near Portland Place,” Lister said. “It’s near where the floats begin their parade. But before that, I’d like to buy you something that matches your beauty.”

They stopped by a flower shop on their way. Rainbow flags and ribbons decorated every bit of the interior, and some of the bouquets were also rainbow-themed. 

“What’s your favorite flower, Miss Walker?”

Ann’s eyes travelled from one flower to another. “I don’t know. The lilies, I think. I’m not very knowledgeable about flowers.”

“Oh, how about this?” Lister grabbed a rainbow flower crown and placed it on Ann’s head. “You look divine. Straight out of a fairytale.”

After leaving the shop with the crown, they went to the restaurant. They sat at a table on the terrace. A touch of wind made Ann’s blonde curls flutter. Lister enjoyed the sight, so much she had to tap her foot against Ann’s under the table accidentally on purpose a few times. After the third or fourth time, Ann seemed to catch on and enjoy the accidents. 

Their conversation revolved around the pride event. How it had grown since the first time Lister attended it almost two decades ago, how her company had contributed to the growth. But the main aim was to verify Lister’s assumption about Ann’s sexuality. 

"I mean, it's our obligation as a public entity to participate in this kind of social movements. Participate and mean it. Not just associate ourselves with the community and make pride products only during the season. Because this is the least we could do to repay the community. But shamefully, a lot of companies don't understand the simple concept of decency. The Rawson's for example, but hey-ho." Lister pointed at the big ad of the Rawson's, with supportive messages, displayed in front of the restaurant. 

But Ann only nodded. No visible reaction at the mention of her extended family. 

"Have you ever considered setting up a booth for your work?" Lister said. 

"At the pride? Um, no."

"You should, next year. It's a great opportunity to gain fans. There are tons of people who would love to support LGBTQ artists such as yourself." Lister raised an eyebrow, dangling a very obvious bait. 

And maintaining the eye contact, Ann must have picked up on it. A pause to ponder, and at last, she gave a shy nod.

Brilliant. 

Her smartphone buzzed. 

Lister looked at the caller’s name before caressing Ann's hand across the table. “I’m afraid I have to take this.” She stood up and sauntered a little away from their table, overlooking the streets. “Marian.”

“Are you already out? The door’s locked.”

“Mm? Why are you at my place?”

“I told you I’d be. Where are you?”

“I’m having brunch with my”--Lister turned to smile at Ann--”friend. I told you this.”

“What! No, you didn’t. You said we would have brunch together so I should come on an empty stomach.”

Lister pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. I said, I’d be having brunch with someone, so you should take care of your empty stomach before coming. Jesus.”

“I’m dying of hunger,” Marian said as if Lister had created the suffering of famine. 

“Can you come to the BBC building, at least? I’ll meet you there with something to eat.”

“Is it within walking distance?”

“For you, absolutely not. You’ll get lost. And don’t even think about leaving the premises once you got out of the taxi. Stay put. We don’t want a repeat of last year, do we?”

“I want the biggest sandwich.”

So, at last, Lister hung up the phone and returned to the table.

“It’s my little sister. She's visiting from our hometown for the pride-- Shite, I forgot to tell you she’ll be joining us. I hope you don’t mind. I will make sure she never bothers you.”

Ann’s face brightened. “No, I would love to meet your sister. How big is the age difference?”

“Seven. Anyway, she wants something to pacify the void of her stomach with.” Lister opened the menu again. 

Beckoning their waiter over, she ordered two sandwiches to go and, since they had some time to kill, ice cream for Ann.

Fifteen minutes later, Lister paid check for both of them in defiance of Ann’s protest. Arm in arm, they walked to the BBC centre one block away from the restaurant. 

Finding her sister was easy. Lister had never told her not to take a step forward or to the side. But apparently that was how Marian interpreted it, standing in the middle of the pavement like a boulder in the heavy flow of pedestrians. Even as she spotted Lister across the street, she waited there, with feet glued to the ground and arms outstretched. 

"Oh, I've been waiting for ages!" 

Lister went in to give a hug. 

But Marian pushed her away. "No, not the hug. The food!"

With a scowl, Lister pressed the food into her hands. She turned to Ann. "Marian, I want you to meet Miss Walker. She's my date today."

"Oh, hello." Marian smiled with the sandwiches clutched to her chest. "Your dress is blinding."

Ann mumbled a thank you. "Miss Lister-- I mean, _Anne_ bought it for me." She threw a meek glance at Lister, cheeks flushed. 

Had they not been in front of Marian, Lister would've thrown in some sleek comments. But for now, she contented herself with just a PG-18 smile. 

She checked her watch. "We better get going. Keep up with us, Piglet." Giving Marian a pat on the head, she offered Ann an arm in the same motion and began walking.

"But I want to eat," Marian said. 

"It's only a short walk. You have plenty of time."

And true to her words, it only took five minutes to arrive at the starting point of the parade (Never mind that they could've made it in a couple of minutes without Marian). While Marian ate on the nearby bench with Ann by her side, Lister greeted some of the organisers and old friends. Some folks from Shibden Group were also here to be on the float with her. They showed their float. A rainbow of balloons, various flags--gay, lesbian, aromantic, trans flags--sticking out, a big logo of Shibden Group on the base. Afterwards, Lister answered some people’s requests for pictures, and also flirted with some of the female protesters in the vicinity for sport. 

It was beginning to drizzle. 

Lister went back to where Marian and Ann were having an animated conversation. The flower crown was, for some reasons, now on Marian’s head. It was clear they had instantly clicked. Though lacking in charisma, Marian was still a Lister. Charming as ever.

“You aren’t engaging in slander against me, are you, Marian?”

Ann looked up at her. “We were just talking about how we met.” Her smile turned into a knowing grin. “I told her we met at an art gallery, because it’s how it happened.”

It was this glimpse of her daring that got Lister tongue-tied for the first time. 

Naughty. 

Glancing at Marian’s unreadable expression, Lister couldn’t help but smile in defeat. 

“Yes. Indeed, that’s how we met.” She sat down next to Ann, their hips almost flush against each other on the three-persons bench.

"So, you live in Halifax?" Ann said to Marian.

Marian hummed. "Taking care of dad and auntie and the old house. The only time I ever come to London is for this."

As if it was the most natural thing, Lister snuck her arm around Ann’s waist. She looked at Marian over Ann's head. "But this year is different, is it not, Marian?" With a quick sideways glance at Ann, she found a touch of red creeping up her neck.

“It is different in a sense, yeah,” Marian said with a grin, fiddling with the sandwich wraps. “Well, I’ve come here many times before, but only as an ally. But today, I’m a member of the community?”

“Oh? What-- I mean--” Ann could not seem to form any coherent sentence. 

Lister was drawing circles on the skin just below her bra with her thumb. All unconscious gestures, of course. Of course. It was fitting punishment for being naughty.

But none of it caught Marian’s attention. “Well, I’m… aromantic?” She giggled.

“I helped her figure it out,” Lister said to Ann. “Being a marvelous sister and all.”

Ann turned her head around, not realizing the proximity of their faces. Their eyes met. A small gasp caressed Lister’s lips. A nice shade of red reached the tips of her ears as she hastened to look away. 

“I’m in a much happier place now, yeah,” Marian said. “I don’t feel pressured anymore to look for a husband just to make dad stop worrying.”

“Down with amatonormativity. Although--” Lister again tried to look into Ann’s face. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with falling in love, of course.”

And of course, nothing wrong with people marrying for non-romantic reasons, either. 

But at this point, Ann seemed too far gone to comprehend half of the conversation. Any more teasing might short-circuit the poor girl. Enough punishment for now. Lister must refrain herself here. 

An event staff came to them. “Miss Lister, when you are ready.”

Lister got on her feet and pulled Ann up. As they went to the Shibden float, however, Ann stopped. 

Lister turned around. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m going to wait for you two somewhere. At the end of the parade, I think.”

“Oh, no. You’re coming with us, Miss Walker.” Lister smiled. “Do you seriously think I’d let you alone in this crowd, hmm?”

Ann’s gaze travelled from her to the float. “You mean, up there--?”

“Yes. Are you afraid of heights?”

Ann gave a weak shake of her head. “But I’m not a public figure like you.”

“Neither is Marian. Neither are most of the people up on the other floats. We are all just here to have fun and to celebrate who we are, are we not?”

The worried expression never dissipated. 

Lister took both of her hands. “Keep me company, please? I’d be constantly looking for you in the crowds, and that won't do.”

So, Ann finally agreed to be led up on the float. Marian, with her aro flag in her hand, gave them rainbow and lesbian flags. The float began to move, then, and Ann wobbled a little. 

Wrapping her arm around Ann’s waist again, Lister kept both of them firmly on their feet. “I got you. Don’t let go.”

Ann grabbed on to her jacket. 

The blaring music shook the float underneath them. People cheered and waved at them. But to everyone’s annoyance, the raining got worse, the tattoo of it growing louder. With the sun obscured, the temperature dropped in a matter of several minutes. Ann shivered in her arm.

“Are you cold?” Lister took off her jacket and draped it over her shoulders. 

“You don’t have to--”

“I should’ve bought you a matching shawl or something.”

“No-- You’ll get cold.”

"I usually have a high body temperature. This doesn't bother me at all."

“But--” A fat raindrop fell on Ann’s eyelid, then. 

With a chuckle, Lister wiped it away with her thumb, her hand lingering on her cheek. She took off her bowler hat and placed it gently on Ann’s head. “Here. This would protect your pretty face to some extent.”

Miss Ann Walker, in Lister’s hat and jacket, with puppy eyes and flushed cheeks, looked absolutely adorable in that moment. 

But Lister was aware of the people’s gaze, the fangirls screeching down on the pavement. She managed to look away from Ann and over to them, waved and winked at them. The screams it generated almost drowned out the blaring music.

Lister pulled her into her arms and whispered in her ear, “Feel that? They are wondering who you are.” She stared into the blue eyes. “They are thinking you are my lady.”

Ann was speechless.

“Shall we give them a little performance? Something for them to swoon over?” 

Ann shivered every so slightly. “What do you mean?”

With a smirk, Lister lifted the hat off Ann’s head, held it in front of their faces as a screen between them and the spectators, and brought their lips closer. People roared. 

And behind the hat, Lister gave a wicked smirk, looking down at Ann’s puckered lips within a hairbreadth of her own. They stayed like that for a second or two, and Lister pulled away, putting the hat back on Ann's head. 

… 

The after-parade speech went well, which was followed up by the music performance of a famous band. But they didn't stay. 

Lister sent Marian to her flat in a taxi, ignoring her speech about how confident she felt walking around the city now. Alone with Ann at last, she walked her home. It was silent most of the times, the air heavy around them. 

Once or twice, Lister made an attempt at a conversation, but Miss Walker seemed to be lost in deep thought. Although not a clairvoyant, Lister still could see inside her head and the anticipation that swirled about. And part of her also felt the same kind of swirl trying to consume her. She would behave, though, until they were absolutely alone.

They made it to Ann’s house. Ann pushed the door open, and they walked in together. 

In the dimly lit foyer, Lister put gentle hands on Ann’s waist and backed her against the wall. Ann let out a gasp. Her heartbeat audible. Raising one hand to her face, Lister stroked the pink lips with her thumb, the upper one first, and then the bottom.

“At last, Miss Walker. You have no idea what you do to me.” She leaned in.

Before their lips met, however, Ann ducked her head. 

For a moment, Lister struggled to comprehend what had just happened. She was supposed to be kissing those lips now, but was instead gaping at the top of her own bowler hat on Ann’s head. 

“Are you alright?”

Ann mumbled something.

“What?”

“I can’t,” Ann said. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

_ Oh. _

Lister dropped her hands. “Have I been too forward?”

“No. I mean-- I don’t know.”

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know. You are-- Oh God.” Her breathing became erratic by the second, her face contorted. “I think you should go.”

Those were clearly signs of a panic attack.

“Let me stay. Let me help--” Lister reached out, but Ann jerked away.

“No, you’re making it worse. No-- Please, go. I’ll be fine. Just go.” Clutching her chest, Ann felt her way back into the house.

From the foyer, Lister listened to the retroceding, erratic rhythm of her breathing. The sound quieted down some time after, no longer reaching her ears. Only then, Lister turned on her heel and closed the door behind her quietly. 

She strode home in the rain. 

What on earth had happened? Whatever that was, it seemed so bloody out of the blue. Back on the float, Ann had displayed no sign of withdrawal, almost panting for a kiss. And then, two hours later, she kicked Lister out of the house. Why? She couldn’t remember doing or saying anything that might've instigated Ann to reconsider in that short span of time. 

She went home and ordered pizza for herself and Marian. But the event kept racing through her mind with relentless force. She saw Marian steal her pepperoni on her pizza from across the table and let her get away with it. 

Marian’s phone vibrated on the table. 

"Oh, look! Annie just sent me this." She picked the phone with her non-greasy fingers and handed it to Lister. 

It was a selfie of Marian and Ann, taken in the wing of a stage judging from the curtains behind them. Both were smiling, Ann looking straight into the camera. Lister had not had those blue eyes look her straight in the eye like this that afternoon. 

"When in the hell did you two exchange numbers?"

"During your speech. She sort of looked bored, so I sent her my collection of memes." 

"No kidding,” Lister said. “Did you say something to her about me? Something that, I don’t know, makes her see me in a new light?”

Marian raised an eyebrow. “Not that I recall-- On second thoughts, I don’t really recall talking about you, believe it or not. She was nice to ask me about _ me_, which I hadn’t expected from your date. I like her. She likes you, too."

Lister pondered and leaned forward. "You think so, too, right? I mean, she was all over me at the pride."

"_You _ were all over her at the pride. But continue."

"Well, there's nothing to continue with. I walked her home, and she just… didn't want me. I don't know what I did wrong."

“Maybe she already has someone else.”

“Not as far as I could tell from her Instagram.”

“You stalked her online?”

“Even then, so what?” Lister said. “There’s no rule that says you can’t have sex with someone else.”

“There is. It’s called morality.” Marian sipped her wine. "Does that bother you?"

"What?"

"That she isn't responding the way you expect her to?"

"Are you suggesting that I'm some sort of a manipulative arsehole?"

"No. You can be an arse, but not manipulative… most of the time. But hey, I don't think you're a sociopath."

"Oh, really? Splendid! Shall we toast to that?"

Marian raised her glass. "Santé." She took a sip. "But in all seriousness, you have this… thing. Don't get mad, but to me, it seems that it's always the ones that reject you that you pursue the hardest. Mary… Annie… And I wonder if that has anything to do with whatever you're feeling right now."

Lister couldn't come up with a counterargument, but didn't want to allow Marian to have the last word. "She and Mariana are not the same."

"Well, duh. Annie is so sweet, like a puppy. I don't think she's ever capable of hurting you like Mary did and still does."

"Mariana does not hurt me. Hurt comes from betrayal, and you cannot be hurt if you don't place your heart in the hands of the other person. And Mariana certainly does not have it."

"Whatever you say, brave woman."

Lister took an angry bite of her pepperoni-free pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh do I love Marian... She will have a big role in this story :)  
Pls let me know what you think of this chapter!


	4. Don't let your shareholders hear that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their first KISS! FINALLY!

Marian was staying at her place for a week, as usual, enjoying the city. But not without supervision. Lister asked one of her interns to escort her and make sure she wouldn’t accidentally end up in Richmond. 

During this stay, Marian and Ann had seemed to become friends, texting each other throughout the day. Lister couldn’t tell Marian about her grand scheme, not yet if not ever. It called for precaution, otherwise the secret might slip out of her sister and ruin everything-- If there was anything not ruined yet, that was. 

All the texts Lister sent Ann were ignored. A week had passed since that day.

In front of her full-length mirror, she buttoned up the sleeves of her shirt. The tie felt a tad tight around the neck. She wore one spray of her cologne on her wrists, pushed her hair back, and checked the time. A bit running late for the party. Exactly how she liked it. She strode out into the living room. 

Marian sat in the couch in her pajamas. There were all kinds of snacks scattered on the coffee table. The television was on. Some idiot in a cheap-looking tie was screaming in the E.U. parliament.

“I’m off. Don’t stay up too late.” Lister leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. She then threw a glance at the tele. “I don’t know how you manage to not fall asleep instantly listening to this dull thing.”

“The politics affects the company, too. How can you not be interested?”

“I’m only interested in the results, not the process.”

Marian shrugged. “To each their own, I suppose. It’s more entertaining than you think if you give it time. I recently came to the conclusion that Nigel Farage looks quite like John Mulaney.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Farage?”

“No, the other one-- How is Miss Walker?”

“Oh, she hasn’t texted you back yet, has she?” Marian said, popping a Bakewell tart in her mouth.

In spite of the lack of acerbity in her voice, it still bruised Lister's ego. “No, she hasn’t. But I’m more worried than anything at this point. The last time we parted, she didn’t look… very well.”

“She’s fine. Bright as a button. I’m having lunch with her tomorrow.”

“Has she talked about me in any way?”

Marian stared up at her, sipping her wine. “We don’t talk about you. Maybe she’s attracted to me instead of you, and you haven’t taken that hint. Not that I could reciprocate or anything, but _ hey-ho _.” 

...

The party was already bustling with more-than-tipsy people. Full of important figures from various industries, investors, journalists, and the like. And Lister, as always, made everyone’s head turn the moment she walked in.

She spent the first hour greeting her 'friends' and potential investors. Most of these men were dull and stupid. Their sole saving grace was their wives. But Lister had made it a rule a long time ago not to (consciously) chat them up. Not at parties where they were with their husbands, at least. Now that she held a position of power, it’d be a damaging blow not only to her, but to the whole Shibden Group if someone were to overhear the wife of an important man screaming her name in the bathroom. 

And that included Mariana Lawton, who had accompanied her husband tonight. Lister caught her gaze over the heads of people many times, but steered clear of her. Instead, she elected to flirt with a young woman in a humble dress. Blonde, freckled skin, a shy smile, cheeks flushing when Lister whispered in her ear. So intoxicating.

Wasn’t Miss Walker missing out on such great things? Things Lister could offer her?

She shagged the young woman in the bathroom, covering her mouth with her free hand. After the woman left the bathroom stall, Lister stayed there a little longer. She checked her phone. No reply from Ann.

As she pushed the stall door open, her eyes instantly met with those of Mariana. 

“Hello, Mariana.” Lister went to the mirror to fixed her hair. Their eyes locked again in the mirror. “What?”

“Orange doesn’t suit you.” Mariana had no trace of humour in her voice.

Looking back at herself in the mirror, Lister wiped the young woman’s lipstick off with the back of her hand. “Red would, then? Like yours?”

Mariana only glared.

“Why are you here?” Lister said as she washed the slipperiness off her fingers. “Hiding from the magnanimous eggplant of your husband?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all night.”

“You’re with Charles. What do you want me to do?”

“Come say hi. That’s what acquaintances do.”

Lister curled her lip. “Oh, acquaintances, are we? Hmm, that’s odd, because an _ acquaintance _wouldn’t wait for me while I shag someone in the bathroom stall and give me a wee little speech afterwards about how I shouldn’t do it with someone that wears an orange lipstick.”

“I wasn’t waiting--”

“Really? So, you just happened to miss that I walked in here with that girl and also happened to walk in as we finished? Seriously, Mariana, do we really have to have the same conversation every time we see each other at the parties?”

“Stop biting my head off, Freddie. All I wanted was--” 

But another person walked into the bathroom in the moment, and silence instantly surrounded them. 

Lister waited until the person walked into a stall to bring her face closer to Mariana's. “You don't seem to fully understand, so let me make it crystal clear," she whispered. "You do not own me, Mariana. You threw that chance away nine years ago.” She made sure to bump her shoulder against Mariana’s as she walked past her. 

To her further annoyance, she ran into Christopher Rawson outside the bathroom. 

Fantastic. A plague after a storm.

“Miss Lister, always a pleasure to see you.”

Lister shook his hand. “Likewise, Mr. Rawson. How’s your mother?”

“She’s better. She was awfully pleased with the fruit basket you sent her.”

“Good. She deserves all the love in the world. A proper charming woman, your mother. Very vivacious. And I’m also very pleased that your company seems to be doing quite well.”

Rawson gave a twisted smile. “Thank you, although I regret I cannot say the same thing about yours.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, I was very saddened to read the annual fiscal report of your company a couple of months ago. Your growth rate is… dare I say, stagnant, Miss Lister. I’ve been quite worried since, non-stop.”

_ You twat. _

Lister flashed a smile. “Well, then, I think you’d be delighted to hear that there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. We’ve been making some investments, mostly overseas. We weren’t expecting to see any profit that soon yet. Have you ever considered oversea investments? It’ll do you good.”

_ If your company had the money to do it anyway. _

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Lister. But at this moment, there are other things to focus on. Our growth rate, for example.”

Lister concealed the urge to kick him in the crotch behind the rim of her champagne glass. “I do understand that. It’s just that the goal of our company isn’t simply to make money, but to contribute to the growth of society as a whole.”

The ridiculing smile of Rawson grew more obvious. “Well, don’t let your shareholders hear that. Rumour has it that they don’t like that kind of philosophy.”

"Your sound advice is kindly received." 

"Enjoy the evening, then. Always a delight talking to you." He clinked his glass against hers and turned around, but stopped. “Oh, and one more thing--” With his upper lip curled, he closed the distance between their faces. “Keep your hands off my secretary.”

This one, Lister had idea what it was about. But then, as he walked away, the young woman from earlier threw a meek smile at her before trailing behind him. 

She shagged the secretary of Christopher Rawson. This was definitely going into her journal. 

…

Rawson had a point, although she’d rather get burned alive than having to see his self-righteous smile at this admission. 

The fiscal year had ended in March, and Lister didn’t like the figures in the reports. The investment thing was not a lie. Still, some of those projects were not going according to the initial plans. The hotel in Las Vegas had to halt the construction after the construction firm had suffered the sudden death of the president and welcomed a new one, who happened to be a wack job, asking for contract revisions. One of the subsidiaries the group had acquired a few years ago wasn’t making as much profit as she had anticipated… Her migraine tormented her just thinking about these things. 

Yes, she had do something about Miss Walker. She would not be remembered for the fall of Shibden Group. 

Lister turned on the intercom. “Eugénie, what time is my next appointment?”

“Dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Ferralls at six, ma’am.”

Two hours. Plenty of time. 

She rang up her favorite florist before leaving the office. She bought a box of macaroons at the pastry shop one block away, marched down to the flower shop for a small bouquet of roses, and drove her Bugatti to Kensington. 

It was very likely that Ann wouldn't let her guards down so easily this time. Lister might have to face rejection again. But still, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Life was all about taking odd risks now and again. She would show Ann humility, become friends. Then, marriage.

At Ann's doorstep, she rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. She rang again. Nothing. 

Then, it came to mind what Marian had said the previous night. Lunch with Ann. It was past four o’clock. They couldn’t be still together, could they?

With a sigh, Lister stared down at her gifts and decided to leave them at the doorstep. She knelt down. 

It was when the door opened a crack. The sight of Ann looking down greeted her.

Lister stood upright. “Miss Walker.” But she crouched down again to pick the gifts up. “I was just in the neighbour-- I mean, I came to apologise for what transpired the other day.”

As she spoke, she took in the appearance of Ann. An oversized shirt that covered her thighs, naked legs, water droplets dripping from the tip of her hair, and her face free of makeup. A stark contrast with the Ann on the day of the pride. Not so ethereal, but so captivating in a homely way. 

“Oh, I--” Without makeup, the blush on Ann’s face was more apparent. “Sorry, I was in the shower.” She opened the door a little wider.

It took a moment for Lister to comprehend the meaning of the gesture. She had prepared a doorstep speech in the car, but it could certainly be performed inside, too. 

As Lister stepped in, they stood in the foyer, face to face. But unlike the last time, Lister kept her distance.

“I’m not going to touch you,” Lister said. She then put the bouquet and box down on the nearby table, feeling a bit foolish to make a speech with them in her hands. “I came today, Miss Walker, to say that what I did was unacceptable. No excuse. I made advances without your consent, dragging you up on the float, not even stopping for a moment to think maybe you didn’t want to be seen with me that way in public. I’m not even sure if you’re out, but I failed to keep in mind that everyone has their own pace to--”

“No--” 

“Pardon me?”

Ann’s mouth opened and closed. “I’m not upset about… that. I like you, a lot. I always have, since before you even knew of my existence. I would see you walking on the streets with a beautiful woman by your side and often wonder how wonderful it’d feel to be that woman.”

“But--?”

“But then, you visited me here, being all nice. I saw how you looked at me. And on the float, when you… did that, I--” Her eyes welled up as she looked at Lister. “I’m not good enough for you. I don’t have anything to offer you like those women do. I’m not beautiful or intelligent--”

“Hey, hey. Stop saying things like that.” Lister closed the gap between them, cupping her tear-soaked cheeks. 

Ann cried even harder. “You see, I couldn’t. I couldn’t let you kiss me because I didn’t want to be just your fling. Just some nameless woman you forget about after a week. I didn’t want that. So, I thought it’d be better if I just let you go and never see you again, because it’d be so unfair, when you were my--” She fell silent, before whispering, “my world.”

It left Lister dumbstruck. True to every sense of the word. Sure, she was used to women crying for her, over her, claiming to love her. But never like _ this _. She stood with Ann between her and the wall, but all she could do was to stare at the cream-coloured wallpaper.

“I’m sorry,” Ann said quietly. “You could go now, if you want. You don’t owe me anything.” Her wet bottom eyelashes clung to her skin.

“Is that what you want? For me to go? For good?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t have what I want.”

“What do you want?”

Ann didn’t answer.

Lister cupped her cheek and made her look up. “Say it.”

But only her chin trembled.

“Say it, Ann. Please.”

Ann closed her eyes and sobbed. “Your heart.”

And it was over for both of them. Lister cupped her cheeks in her hands and kissed her, swallowing the moans that escaped Ann’s throat. It tasted of tears. She kissed and kissed, and felt Ann press back into her. Her hands came up to grasp at Lister’s jacket like she had done on the float. Grasping at her.

They separated, then, foreheads resting against one another.

Lister stared into the blue eyes. A smile spread across her face. “Good Lord, I want to say something really smooth, but I can’t seem to think at all.” 

Ann let out a breathy chuckle.

Taking her hand, Lister kissed each knuckle before resting her forehead on Ann’s shoulder. Her heart roared inside her rib cage. “Don’t, please.”

“What?”

“Don’t be frightened. I’m not going to hurt you.”

A moment of stillness, and Ann pulled her closer. “For a long time, I didn’t even have the right to feel hurt. I think I can take a little.”

After that, they moved to the living room and had a chit-chat whilst eating the macaroons. 

“Oh, I gave Marian your jacket and hat earlier,” Ann said. “We had lunch. I didn’t exactly had a chance to give them back to you. I felt so stupid. I didn’t mean to keep them, but-- Oh, I’m rambling again. I’m sorry. I get like this when I’m nervous.”

Lister offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m glad to see you two are getting along.”

“She’s so nice and funny. I haven’t been able to make friends since college.”

“Well, I’m certain she feels the same way. Halifax is a small town. Not a lot of people her age. It would make her extremely happy if you keep in touch after she left the city.”

Ann gave a nod, but seemed to get distracted by the hand Lister had, out of habit, placed on her bare knee.

Lister pulled her hand back in. “I won’t touch anymore, not without your consent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologise so much. There’s no need for it.”

“No, I’m-- Just--” A crease appeared between her brows. “I wanted to ask whether you’d be opposed to the idea of taking it slow? I want this. But, so many things already happened, and I've never really done anything like this before. And it's with you. I think my heart would literally explode if I let everything happen so quickly.”

"You've never done anything like this?" Lister said in the gentlest tone of her voice. "How do you mean?"

Ann looked down. "Well, I've kissed before-- Been kissed, I mean. But-- Lord, you must think me such a prude."

"No. Of course, not." 

"It's just that I've never felt any kind of strong connection with any sort of person, and--"

"You don't have to justify yourself." Lister held a hand out, palm-up, and squeezed when Ann took it. "Everyone has their own story. There's no right or wrong. Of course, I’d wait-- _ We _ would wait as long as you need to. Weeks, months, years. And even if you never feel like you’re ready, that’s alright, too.”

“Even years?”

“Of course.”

Uncertainty flashed across Ann’s face. “I’m scared I might disappoint you. I _ will _disappoint you, sooner or later.”

“You mustn’t think so poorly of yourself. Ann, look at me--” Lister waited until Ann did. “You should never say yes to anything just to please me, okay? And if I do anything that oversteps the mark, you tell me, understand?”

Slowly, Ann nodded her head. They shared a smile. And a kiss, as Ann asked for it. 

“So, hey,” Lister said. “I wanted to ask you something, too.”

“Yes?”

“I have this area, a small space, in my headquarters where we invite not well-known, but promising artists every month to exhibit their work. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in being one of the artists the month after. What do you think?” 

Ann looked back with wide eyes. “Oh-- An exhibition?”

“Like I said at the pride, all you need is a place, a public place in the physical world, for people--people that matter--to see your work. You’re talented. What you lack is simply opportunities.”

“I don’t know. I think I have to sleep on it.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you come visit me at the headquarters some time? I’ll show you the space, and then, you can make up your mind.”

After a moment of pondering, Ann smiled. “I’d like that.”

Lister raised her hand to Ann’s face, tracing her jawline with her fingertips. And as Ann’s eyes flickered down to her lips, she leaned in to connect their lips. 

Somewhere outside the house, a bell tolled. It took several moments for Lister to register the sound, but when she did, she pulled back from the kiss.

“Shite, what time is it?” She checked her wrist watch before leaping up from the couch. Six o’clock sharp. “Fuck-- I’m having dinner with this old couple. I completely forgot.” 

Making her way to the door, she fumbled in her pocket for the keys. But in the foyer, she span around to look at Ann behind her. 

“I wish I could stay longer.”

Ann shook her head. “Go. They are waiting for you.”

With a peck on the lips, Lister took her hands. “When I’m not running late for anything”--She laughed as Ann did--“I’d like to take you out on a proper date.”

Ann gave a bashful nod. “I’d like that very much.”

…

But that proper date had to wait, as it turned out. 

When Lister returned home from the dinner that night, there was a bag with the rainbow jacket and the bowler hat in it on the dining table.

“I had lunch with Annie today,” Marian said from the couch. “She said to give you that.”

“Hmm.”

“So, tomorrow’s my last night.”

Lister dropped the mail she was checking. “Yes. I was going to ask. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking maybe I’d cook. Invite Ann over.”

Lister looked at her, but managed to maintain a poker face. “Be my guest. It’s your night.”

“You two need reconciliation. It is painfully obvious she wants to resolve whatever the heck is going on between you two. And I refuse to go home without--”

“I said, be my guest.” With the bag from Ann in her hand, Lister retired to her room.

“You have to be there, you know,” Marian shouted. “Actually be there. I won’t have it if you chicken out and--”

But her voice didn’t reach Lister’s ears after the door closed. 

She took the jacket out of the bag and hung it up by her bedside. In the usual case, it would go straight back into the depth of her closet the moment she returned from the parade. This time, though, she wouldn’t mind keeping it out here for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 1. It's only just the beginning...


	5. Not that impressive of a number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know how GJ production peeps decided on the episode titles? (Besides that they are actual lines on the show) I'm having trouble deciding mine. Would like inspiration.

The next evening, Lister came home from work to Marian buckling down in the kitchen. In her Dexter apron she had brought from home, Marian flounced in such an efficient way that for a moment, Lister mistook her for her personal chef. 

“Good Lord, the traffic was a bitch.” Lister walked to the kitchen island, but instantly shut her eyes closed. They stang. “Jesus, Marian, did you shoot pepper spray in here?”

The sound of a knife hitting the cutting board echoed. 

“It’s just onions. Stop being so dramatic. Did you get what I asked for?”

Lister put down a bag of rainbow sprinkles on the kitchen island. “You know I have a low tolerance. I can’t even open my bloody eyes. Is Argus okay? Argus!” She heard the dog come, nails scratching against the floor.

“He’s fine. Go wash your face. I’ll be done when you are back.”

Lister set off towards the bathroom. "I would personally take out whoever invented onions." 

"That'd be Mother Nature. You shouldn't play God, woman." 

They heard the doorbell ring. Lister stopped in the hallway.

“Ah, that must be Annie,” Marian said. “Can you get it? Maybe she’d forget everything when she sees your teary eyes.”

“You bloody criminal mastermind.” Stomping to the door, Lister kept her eyes open just wide enough not to run into furniture. 

At the door, she stopped to check herself in the mirror. Horrific. But no time to keep Ann waiting. She opened the door and managed to smile with her inflamed eyes.

Ann stepped in. “Hi. Are you alright?”

Lister rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. “Yes. Marian is cutting up onions. Are you feeling well, in here?”

“I’m fine, yes. I can smell it, but that’s all.”

“Good. Good, that’s just me, then.”

Ann let out a laugh and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I brought wine. I hope it suits your tastes.”

Lister took the bottle. “Marian drinks anything if it has _ wine _written on it. And as for me--” She kissed her again. “I’ll have anything you bring for me.”

The smile on Ann’s face widened for a moment before faltering. “Does she know about us? Have you told her?”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t know if you wanted her to know, so…” 

“I want her to know. She’s my friend and your family. I do want her to know.”

There was sincerity in her voice and eyes, and Lister couldn’t help her amused smile. She intertwined their fingers. “Well, let’s go tell her, then.”

They walked down to the kitchen at a leisurely pace, swinging their connected hands back and forth. Argus wagged his tail at their feet. But the air of the kitchen still felt like hell to Lister, who had to screw up her eyes again.

“Oh, hi, Annie. You’re early!” Marian said.

“I just couldn’t wait. But please, don’t rush. Do you need a hand?”

“No, no. I’m almost done. Good God, Anne, I’m done with onions. Open your eyes!”

“It’s still in the air.”

Marian let out an exaggerated sigh. “I'm truly sorry, Annie. Please, do make yourself at home. Turn on the tele if you’d like. Anne, put Argus in the room.”

“It’s fine,” Ann said. “We can kill time just fine.”

Opening her eyes, Lister saw Ann smiling at her. She caught the gaze of Marian, then, who threw a knowing smirk at their connected hands. That’d do for now. 

While Marian’s cooking continued, Lister gave Ann a quick house tour for the sake of getting away from the kitchen. The four guest rooms with four different themes, the bathrooms, Argus’s room, which she put the dog in, and her own bedroom with a walk-in closet. In every room they entered, Ann looked around with the kind of curiosity of someone who was expecting to see something specific. 

"Looking for something, Miss Walker? The entrance to my secret chamber or what?"

"Oh, no. Just--" Ann's cheeks flushed as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "The art piece of mine. I didn't see it in the living room. That's where you said you'd put it, but…"

Lister had totally forgotten about the non-bin bin. It was now buried deep in the walk-in closet among some unopened packages of electronics she had drunk-ordered online on more than one occasion a several years ago. 

"Ah, that's… I had to take it to my office. Argus was playing with it, knocking it over and whatnot."

"Oh, dear." Ann laughed.

"Hmm. So, anyhow, more people could appreciate the work there than in here."

And thankfully, the much uncalled-for heartache was aborted. Lister made a mental note to move the bin to her office. They continued to walk down the hallway. By then, onion’s toxin had left Lister’s system. Her usual demeanor returned. 

“And this room is--” Lister opened the door to a room with bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling. “My study.”

Ann entered, looking up with her mouth agape. She wandered around the place, eyes twinkling as she ran her hands over the books.

Lister pulled her closer. “I have all the books I adore here. From Wuthering Heights to history books to neuroscience to”--She winked--“_Les Misérables _, in French, of course.”

“You speak French?”

“I do. It’s a beautiful language.”

“I only know how to say _ merci _and ‘how much is this?’ in a horrid English accent.” Ann laughed. “Say something in French for me?”

With a growing smirk, Lister softly pinned her against the bookshelf and brought her lips close to her ear. “_J’ai hâte de te dévorer_.”

Ann shuddered beneath her. “What did you say?”

“You make me the happiest person on earth.”

The kiss they shared was slow, but of passion. Lister nipped at her bottom lip, snuck her tongue in, and felt Ann wrap her arms around her neck to pull their bodies closer. The small whimpers Ann let out slithered down Lister's back and nestled in her lower abdomen. Lister groaned in return, feeling Ann's frame shiver and undulate in her arms.

They had to stop right now, otherwise Lister would have to risk losing her mind trying to disentangle their bodies. Thankfully, Marian’s yell announced the dinner. The spell had been broken. They giggled in each other's arms. 

"Let's go. You don't want to keep Marian waiting." 

After planting a feather-light kiss on Ann’s forehead, Lister took both of them to the dining room.

“Anne, come dish up yourself,” Marian said from the kitchen. 

Lister pulled a chair out for Ann and then walked into the kitchen to stand next to Marian.

Marian cleared her throat in a theatrical manner. “You look… ridiculous in pink. Makes you look like a clown.”

Raising her brow, Lister wiped her lips with her thumb, which came out pink and glossy. She shot Marian a satisfied grin.

With her quintessential eye-roll, Marian returned to the table with two plates. Lister followed her with a plate for herself, kissing Ann on the back of her hand as she sat down.

The dinner consisted of Marian’s special toad in the hole and a veggie soup with onions and other small dishes. Now and then, Lister brushed her foot against Ann’s leg under the table, enjoying Ann’s increasingly deep blush. One time, Ann even retaliated in a like manner.

After the main course, they also enjoyed an icecream cake with rainbow sprinkles on top. The wine Ann had brought pleased Marian, and when Marian liked her wine, she drank it to the bottom of the bottle. 

“So-- Then, he had the frigging audacity to propose to me.” Marian giggled, her entire face red. “In that moment, it hit me like a bolt of lightning how un-in-love I was with him. I tried and tried to feel whatever he was feeling for me, but it just never came. Like, here, he was on one knee, and I found myself wishing I was at home eating cake.”

“Oh.” Ann grimaced.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Lister said. “He was a twat. He pressured her into the relationship in the first place.”

“I felt so broken,” Marian said. “I didn’t know what was wrong with me.”

“So, she came to me for advice, as she should,” Lister said to Ann. “My first guess was that she might be a lesbian, unconsciously keeping herself in the closet.”

“But I wasn’t. I still like men’s body. I like him a little chubby around the waist.”

“We did a little research together and concluded that the label _ aromantic _best suited her situation. And that, Miss Walker, is the birth of the new Marian Lister." Lister opened another bottle of wine with a ceremonious pop. "She cried.”

“Well, you would, too, if it took you thirty-four years to find a single word that remotely describes who you are at the core.” Marian then turned to Ann. “It was hard to come to terms with it, thinking I'd never have what I everyone else was having. In real life and the media. But, hey, I have love in my life all the same."

Ann put a hand on Marian's. "I think you're a really brave person."

"I learned to suck it up, from her." With a proud grin, Marian jerked her chin at Lister. She then smiled at Ann with half-closed eyes. “What’s your story, Annie? When did you find out you liked women?”

The colour pink spread across her face. “Oh, I think I was fifteen. Her name was Isabelle.”

And Ann continued to tell the story about her first love. How they met as roommates at the boarding school, what a rock star she was, and so on. Lister knew it was stupid and innocent puppy love, but couldn’t look at Ann for some reasons. The icecream cake tasted great. 

“Oh, Anne keeps a journal, too!” Marian said. “But it’s locked, with a combination lock. Can you believe it? Lord knows what she writes in there. It wouldn’t surprise me if it had the body count of the people she killed with her glaring.”

Lister glare at her.

Ann turned to her with a tipsy smile. “What kind of things do you write in it?”

“Many things. The temperature of the day, people I've met, things that happened that day… you know, stuff.”

“Do you write about me, too?”

Okay, perhaps Ann was more than tipsy. But the question sobered Lister up slightly nonetheless. It felt like a slap on the cheek, because she had almost forgotten about her own scheme. 

Lister forced a smile. “Lately, yes. My entries have been predominantly about you.” 

The honest words seemed to please Ann. “So, what about you?”

“Hmm?”

“When did you know you liked women?”

“Right after leaving mum’s womb,” Mariana said. “Remember you used to tag along with me to my friend’s house just so you could talk to her mum-- Ow!” 

Lister had kicked her in the shin under the table. But apparently, Mariana was too drunk to take the hint, and continued talking. 

“She’s always liked older women. It hasn’t changed. Fifty years old, sixty, those MILFs-- Ow! Stop kicking me!”

In the midst of the exasperation, Lister caught Ann laughing in the corner of her eye. How incandescent her smile was. But this would be the last time Lister ever lost sight of her plan. She must put up guards in order not to be swept off her feet by Ann like that again.

When the dinner ended, Ann said goodnight to Marian and left the house with Lister. It was drizzling. They walked with an umbrella between their brushing shoulders. 

“Marian is a wonderful cook,” Ann said. “Do you cook?”

Lister shook her head. “I usually have someone come in to cook for me.”

“I hadn’t had such a pleasant evening in a long time,” Ann said. “I’m always alone, you see. I cook for myself and eat by myself. So, sometimes it can be difficult to care for my health. Oh, how I wish she didn’t have to go home.” She let out a chuckle with a grimace.

Lister saw this as a chance to steer the conversation. “Aren’t you close to your family?”

“Well, my parents died when I was young. My sister and I get along just fine, but she lives in Scotland.”

“What about your extended family? Like cousins? Do you have any?”

Ann frowned, staring down at the curb as she did tightrope walking on it. “I do, but… I don’t really like them. They are businesspeople, my cousins, all about making money." As if hit by lightning, her head snapped up. "Not that businesspeople are inherently bad or anything."

Lister nodded. So, Ann and the Rawsons were not on good terms. "Businesspeople, huh? Do you think I know them? I could give them a few lessons to learn if you'd like."

Ann chuckled, but didn't give her an answer.

"Well, do I?"

"You do," Ann said, sighing. "But… You don't like them, either. I'm scared your opinion of me might change because of my relation to them."

"Come on. Of course, it won't."

All the same, the air of reluctance lingered. Cogs and wheels turned inside Ann's head, her lips parting and closing. In the end, she shook her head and shot her a rueful smile. "I'll tell you one day."

With no choice but to accept the defeat for this round, Lister gave a nod and changed the subject. “I hope you wouldn’t believe everything Marian said about me. She gets awfully chatty when she drinks.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the thing about older women.”

Ann chuckled. “Is it not true? I’ve seen the women you like to keep company with.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean--”

“It wouldn’t upset me if it was.” Ann leaned against her shoulder a little. “I like an older woman, too, so…”

Lister was left speechless. But with the blissful smile gracing Ann’s face, this silence didn’t feel menacing.

“I’d love to cook for you someday," Ann said. "I’ll make sure to avoid onions.”

They laughed together. 

“Good Lord, that was so unflattering of me.”

“I like it, seeing this side of you,” Ann said. “You’ve always been like a literal star to me, so far out of reach. Now, you feel much closer. You feel human. And I thank my lucky stars every day that you chundered in my art piece.”

Lister didn’t know how to respond but to laugh. The pattering of rain on the umbrella was getting harder. She ignored the drumming of her heart.

“I like this version of you, too, Miss Walker. This bolder, more confident woman with flushed cheeks. You know, alcohol never magically turns a person into someone they are not. What it does is to lower the inhibition of the person.”

Ann nodded. 

“So, it means that what I’m seeing right now is the real you, underneath the layers of your insecurities. And I fully intend to draw it out of you, to make it your normal, if you allow me.”

They were silent for a moment as they walked over a puddle.

“I like myself when I’m with you,” Ann said. “You make me feel invincible. With you, I feel like I could take on the world. I’m not strong like Marian. I can’t imagine being so confident in myself on my own--”

“You are whole as you are, with or without a significant other.” Lister made them stop and put a hand under Ann’s chin to look into her eyes. “I’m not here to fix you, Ann. There’s nothing to fix. I’m only asking if you’d let me… take that blindfold off your eyes.”

The light from the street lamps danced in the blue eyes. Ann slowly nodded. 

“Good.” Lister began to resume the walk, but was stopped by Ann’s hand on hers on the handle of the umbrella. 

Ann stared at their hands, deep in thought. “Have you ever kissed in the rain?”

Lister felt her heart leap. “No.”

At least, it was such a long time ago that it might as well have been a past-life event. 

“I always wondered what it’s like.” Ann traced patterns on her skin with her thumb. Her eyes found Lister’s. Waiting.

So, Lister lowered the umbrella until both of them stood in the rain, pulled her into an embrace, and pressed their lips together. It felt like kissing in the shower, but not quite the same. Their clothes and hair clung to their skin. The smell of rained soil encompassed them. The toes of Ann’s shoes clicked against hers in an effort to reduce the gap between their bodies. A car drove past them with an unceremonious beep of the horn. They giggled against each other’s lips.

“_Tu me fais la personne la plus heureuse sur terre _,” Ann said.

And for a fleeting moment, Lister was back to the version of herself she had buried deep into oblivion. Young, naive, and so goddamn happy.

…

Lister sat in the couch in her office, staring at a big screen on the wall. It was divided into four sections, displaying the faces of middle-aged men. The Noodles Four, as Lister called them behind their backs (No relation to the Vietnamese noodle pho). They opened their mouths and chattered away like a live-action Twitter feed.

Lister had mentally set it on mute a while ago. She had finished five strong cups of tea, changed the ink of her Japanese fountain pen, and managed to remove the chewing gum from the sole of her shoe. And after all these things, the men were still talking. Lister wondered what kind of a next-gen fuel these men were running on. Perhaps, Viagra was working in the wrong way. 

She checked her wrist watch and clapped her hands once. “Well, it seems, gentlemen, that you have managed yet again to waste my precious time for naught. Congratulations, and I look forward to this fruitless meeting next month. Good day.” She shut off the communication.

Back at her desk, the notification light of her phone was blinking. There was a text from Ann.

**Miss W:** I’m here.

Yes, Lister had promised to show her the art gallery for the exhibition.

Making a quick trip to the bathroom, she tried to look presentable. The face in the mirror had a weary look in her eyes, but who wouldn’t after having to listen to men for an hour and a half? Nothing her charms couldn’t cover up anyhow. 

She strode out of her office, past her assistant’s desk. “I’ll be on the third floor. Won’t take long.”

The third floor was open to the public, divided into two zones. One was where individuals could come in to consult for reasonable prices. The other was the gallery, free of entrance fee. 

Lister quickly spotted Ann in front of a painting. Sneaking up on her, she brushed her lips against her ear. “Miss Walker.”

Ann turned around with a start. Her body relaxed once she saw Lister. “Oh God, you scared me.”

“I couldn't help it. Your back looked just as charming as your front-- Well, I do mean that in a non-sexual way.”

A flush crept up Ann’s neck. 

Lister kept her salacious thoughts in check and instead looked around the gallery. “So, what do you think?”

Ann’s expression darkened. “Isn’t this Phoenix Sowden?” She pointed at the painting in front of them.

“Yes, it is. The nonbinary artist of enormous talent and passion.”

“They were the recipient of last year’s BP Portrait award.”

“Precisely. First place. And this”--Lister gestured to the painting--“is the piece they won the award for. Very impressive, don’t you think?”

Ann wrung the gallery’s pamphlet in her hands. “You said that-- You made it sound like this was a small place. It’s grand. It’s vast. It’s too much. I can’t compare with these people.” 

Her voice, hushed as it was, attracted some attention.

Lister took both of her hands. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you like this, Ann. But I genuinely think this would help your career. There are countless people who have never won an award but have undeniable talent nonetheless, including you.”

“They have five thousands followers on Instagram,” Ann said, glancing at the painting. 

“So what? It’s not that impressive of a number, is it?”

“I only have two hundred.”

Lister never understood people’s choice to link those online numbers to their self-worth. “Well, then, let’s see how many you could gain once our company’s account introduced you.” With a hand under Ann’s chin, she tilted her head up. “Like I’ve said before, the difference between you and these celebrated artists is nothing more than the availability of opportunities.”

Ann continued to look forlorn. 

“Do you have your portfolio?”

Ann nodded and fished it out of her bag.

Lister took it gently. “Now, I’m going to give this to my Chief Curator. She’ll love your work, and I will see to it that she gets in touch with you for the September’s exhibit.”

The gaze of Ann refused to leave the ground.

Swallowing back a sigh, Lister gently squeezed her hand. “So, I happened to have one more thing to show you if you follow me?”

They walked out of the gallery, through the hall. And soon, they found themselves alone in the elevator, going up and up for the topmost floor. The glass walls gave a view of the city from above. 

Lister pressed Ann against the wall and brushed her lips over hers. A small gasp fell from Ann's mouth. Ann, with her hand on Lister's shoulders, pulled her closer until their mouths crushed against each other. They melted into the kisses. After a few moment, however, they had to jump away from one another when the elevator door opened. People took a step forward to get in, but as soon as they locked eyes with Lister's, they stepped right back. The door closed. 

Ann grasped at her jacket again, but didn't ask for a kiss. “Are you a scary boss?” she said with an innocuous look. Another out-of-the-blue question.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Well, people parted before us like the Red Sea, and they looked sort of frightened of you.”

“Hmm. I do believe in discipline and respect. But being the way I am, that invites bigoted people to act in certain ways, which requires me to reinforce harsher rules and so on. So, in short, yes, I am a scary boss to some.”

Ann offered a soft smile. “I wish they could see how kind you actually are.”

With a widening smile, Lister kissed her again on the forehead. “I don’t care what they think, because I know I'm right.”

The elevator stopped with a beep. Lister led her out of it and into her office. 

Eugénie stood up. “Ma’am, Mr. Priestly called--”

“Not now, Eugénie. Can’t you see I have a guest?” Closing the door behind them, Lister stood in the middle of the room with a proud grin. She pointed to a corner. "Look, your art is here. See?"

Ann's bin piece sat there next to a fake plant. 

“Would you like something to drink? Something to eat?” Lister took Ann to the couch, where a basket of fruit sat on the coffee table, and plucked two grapes from a bunch. She handed one to Ann. “Ruby Roman, freshly imported from Japan just for you.”

It was the size of a ping-pong ball, so big Ann had to take a bite out of it instead of putting the whole thing in her mouth. 

Lister did the same. “It’s one of the rarest grapes in the world. Ten pounds each.”

Ann choked on it, making Lister laugh.

“Of course, I’m kidding,” Lister said. “It’s only about five or six. Do you like it?”

Ann gave a shy nod. 

Lister went behind her desk. With the press of a button in the corner, the sliding panel blinds slowly opened. Out the floor-to-ceiling windows, they could have a sweeping vista of the city of London.

Lister beckoned Ann over and hugged her from behind. Ann’s fingers dug at her forearms. 

“This is one of my favorite views in the world. Right in front us is Buckingham Palace, of course, and that over there is Piccadilly, can you see?”

Ann nodded, her eyes wide as they travelled this way and that. She held onto Lister even harder.

“You can see the world turn orange and yellow in autumn, and silver in winter.” Lister planted a kiss on her shoulder. “I’ll bring you here at the beginning of each season to show you the view.”

Ann turned her head to lock eyes with hers. The surprise on her face changed into uncertainty, and then settled into joy. “I’d love that,” she said, offering her lips to Lister.

In this position, they continued to share grape-flavored sticky kisses for some time. But as Ann moaned deep in her throat, it rekindled the unruffled flames from the night in the study. Lister made them turn around, walked her backwards to the desk, and hoisted her up to sit there. Ann pulled her closer by the lapels of her jacket, wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Their lips parted for air. With a thumb, Lister stroked her swollen bottom lip before meeting her dilated pupils.

“I know what I said,” Ann said with shallow breathing, “about taking it slow.”

Lister gave a nod, ready to pull away.

Ann’s grip on her jacket remained firm. “But I’m not sure if I want to anymore.”

The next moan Ann let out was swallowed by the mouth of Lister, who took her cheeks in her hands and kissed her with unprecedented passion. She hadn’t felt so out of control, so needy and desperate in a long time. All she wanted in that moment, in this office, was to feel Ann. All of her. The goose-bumps, the nails digging at her shoulders, the tremors, the scent of her. To consume.

But the scenery looked too familiar to Lister. All the glimpses she had of the room between their kisses. She had done this many times with Mariana. That was a fact, and she couldn’t fool herself. 

“Fuck, ugh,” Lister said and separated their bodies. “Not here. We can’t.”

“Oh--”

“It’s too uncomfortable, the desk. It’s hard and-- I don’t want you to feel even an ounce of discomfort.”

“Okay.” Ann looked around the room.

Lister took her hands, smiling at her disheveled hair. “So, I want to suggest we wait until tonight. I’d take you out for dinner, have some wine, bring you those grapes. And… Yeah?”

Ann giggled. “I’d like that.”

So, Lister walked her to the elevator. They shared another kiss, light and quick.

Ann’s hand rose to Lister’s cheek. She looked down with a bashful grin. “Come get me quickly? I might start to doubt if all of this is a dream.”

“Cross my heart.” 

The elevator came, and they said goodbye. 

Back in her office, Eugénie stood up. “Ma’am, Mr. Priestly called. He wanted to know if tonight’s dinner was still on.”

“Yes-- No, it’s got to be cancelled. I’ve got another plan.”

She made a reservation at the most popular restaurant, had Eugénie fetch her most expensive suit from her flat, and got some of the endless paperwork done at the speed of light. 

Tonight was the night. 

Or she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fat storm is coming *gasp* what's it going to be??


	6. That's that, then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I've re-written the whole chapter. The business subplot has changed significantly. Many scenes were added. Mariana's scene stays the same.

The news came in an hour before the dinner reservation.

Washington, her right-hand man, rang her up at the office. “We are in a pickle.” The severity in his tone jolted Lister out of her daydream. 

“What’s going on?”

“Northwich Bank’s team contacted us.” He sighed into the phone. “Texas state attorney’s office just announced they’d be probing into their case.” 

For a moment, Lister pressed the phone into her shoulder, not being able to believe her ears. “What?”

“The fake account issues. They said that the allegations mentioned in the Los Angeles Times article were worth looking into. I talked my friend, a regional branch manager, and she said the investigators are already raiding on some of the branches.”

At once, tonight’s plans vanished in smoke before her eyes. “Keep me updated. I’ll talk to Ainsworth myself, too.” She hung up and turned on the intercom. “Eugénie, catch Thomas Ainsworth. We need a talk.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mind seemed to fail to function properly. 

Northwich Bank was one of Shibden’s subsidiaries, one of the first acquisitions Lister had led as a new leader eight years ago. The retail bank had welcomed a new CEO, Thomas Ainsworth, about two years ago after his predecessor’s retirement. It was around this time that trouble had began to follow the bank. The beginning was the civil lawsuits filed by clients over accounts created on their behalf without their consent. And a few months ago, a Los Angeles Times article had reported the bank’s rigorous sales goals and toxic pressure culture, which had allegedly resulted in the creation of those fake accounts. It had been a constant source of headache for Shibden Group. Then, this. 

Lister strode to the alcohol cabinet and poured herself cognac to the brim. The face of Ainsworth flashed across her mind’s eye. The childish face, with no other defining features save his reeking of entitlement. A generic white man. Lister always had to constantly fight the temptation to press the sole of her shoe into his face. 

Washington showed up shortly after and sat in the couch opposite to Lister. He must’ve been on his way to home. With his tie loosened and the top button on his shirt undone, he was talking to his wife on the phone. Lister could hear the faint, but shrill voice of her wife on the other side.

“What’d she say?” Lister asked when he hung up with a long sigh.

“That I’m an irresponsible father and husband, and a bit of profanity I refuse to repeat. I promised to take the family out for dinner. It’s my eldest daughter’s fifth birthday.”

Lister gave a stiff smile. She felt sorry for him, but also glad not to be in his shoes. “Well, I warned you, didn’t I, when you said you were trying for a baby?”

“You did, ma’am.” A faint laugh of resignation escaped his mouth.

“It’s a hard job, being a parent. And then, you went on to have a second one. It’s true madness.”

“It is, indeed. A madness that somehow everybody accepts blindly. It requires all of you, and you’re not allowed to burn out.” 

Lister hummed. “I suppose that’s the trouble with having a family. We humans, especially ones like us, are not designed to love more than one thing with all of our being.”

Washington said nothing, though his dissent was obvious in his smile. He fidgeted with his phone.

Lister stared at it, replaying what she’d just said in her mind. It hit her like a bolt of lighting, then, as she remembered about Ann. “Fuck.”

“What’s that now?”

She rushed back to the desk, where her private phone was, and called Ann. 

Only within two rings, Ann’s gleeful voice answered, “Are you leaving the office now?”

“Yeah, that… Something came up at work. I’m afraid can’t make it tonight.”

“Oh--”

“I know. I feel like such a twat. But this is--” The intercom beeped.

“Mr. Ainsworth is on the line, ma’am,” Eugénie said. 

“I’ve got to go,” Lister said to Ann. “I promise I’d make it up to you, but it’s going to keep me busy for a while.”

“Okay,” Ann said. “No need to worry about me, though. I know your work is important. Just let me know when it’s settled.”

So, Lister made a promise and immediately returned to the couch to accept the other phone call. “Ainsworth, you’re on speaker. Washington is with me.”

“Miss Lister. Mr. Washington.” There was an irritating tremor in his voice. “Always a delight to talk to you two.”

“To hell with the pleasantries. What’s going on at the Texas branches?”

Ainsworth let out a nervous laugh. “The allegation is that the creation of false accounts is not accidental, but systematic--”

“Is it?” Washington said. 

“Of course, not. It’s a completely baseless accusation, Miss Lister. I assure you everything is under control--”

“That’s what you said when your clients filed lawsuits. On multiple occasions. You said those were separate incidents caused by, what, a computer glitch, is it? And when that article came out, you said the same. I’ve defended you, Ainsworth, repeatedly against the media scrutiny, against my board, and this is what I get in return?” 

“The thing you don’t understand, Miss Lister, is--”

“The thing I don’t understand? Who do you think you’re talking to?” But she refrained from more shouting as Washington reined her in with a gesture. She leapt up and paced about. “If you weren’t so insignificant, Ainsworth, I’d chain you to a truck and drive around until you’re black and blue.”

“The thing,” Ainsworth said in a decisively calm tone, “is that it’s only an investigation prompted by a few unsubstantiated allegations. They won’t find anything.”

“They’d better not. It’s already a PR nightmare as it is. It’s not just your arse that’s on the line. It’s mine, too. And why was it Washington that informed me instead of you? When the hell were you going to give me a bell, if you ever planned to do so?”

“No, Miss Lister.” His nervous smile was audible over the phone. “I was simply talking to my team to--”

“Do not put on that voice, Ainsworth. And do not pull that shite on me ever again, or I’ll see to it that you won’t get a penny if-- when you have to go.” 

There was a short, but grave silence. “Yes, ma’am,” Ainsworth said.

“Don’t try to do anything funny. Be cooperative. And do not let your people talk to the media like the last time.”

The phone call ended. She sank into the couch and took a last swig of her cognac, raking her hand through her hair to tend to her deteriorating migraine. For some moments, neither she nor Washington dared to speak. 

“What a cock up,” Lister said.

“Indeed.”

“If it’s as bad as they suspect-- The share prices… They're going to plunge.”

“They will.”

Then, another silence fell. 

Of course, Shibden Group had suffered its fair share of scandals since its establishment. From allegations of racial misconducts to a data breach to grievances against Lister’s character and her capricious sexual follies. An allegation of fraudulent operations, though, this was the first. This was only the beginning. It was only a matter of time before the investigators came knocking on Shibden’s door, though the media would beat them to it without a doubt. Regardless of the probe findings, it would taint the brand image. 

What a cock up, indeed. Tying him up to a car wouldn’t suffice. If only she could feed Ainsworth to a tiger and sweep his remains and this scandal under the carpet.

Peaceful sleep would be a rarity, she knew, for the next few months. And depending on which way the probe would go, sleep itself would be of extreme luxury for years to come. All the predicaments flashed before her eyes clearly, running in circles on the coffee table.

She went home in the dead of night and took Ambien to sleep. The the morning, however, business news outlets were already reporting the case. Journalists flocked outside her flat as well as the headquarters. Her nosy acquaintances began to flood her personal phone with texts and phone calls. She managed to remember to call in her dog-sitter for Argus before turning it off. The people that mattered could reach her on her business phone.

Anything else would be a distraction, unnecessary one at that.

…

Ainsworth reported to her on the progress of the probe each day, first thing in the morning in Texas time. In England, it was around noon. As the days went by, she dreaded the particular phone call more and more. Not because they had a pessimistic outlook on the probe. It was still too early to decide whether to worry or not. 

No, it was Ainsworth himself. Not only did his voice vex her, he also had a tendency to get emotional and make an excuse at every opportunity, pinning the blame on a handful of his low-level employees. A typical man with a sense of entitlement to the core. How comical and painful. How Shakespearean. Lister wondered if this was how he talked to the officers as well. Better to have him abducted in that case, so the world couldn’t see this embarrassment of a human. Lister remembered why, up to this point, she had confined their communication to mainly email.

The day after the announcement, several national news programmes spent on-air time on this case. But as it was the earlier stage, the news was quickly buried by a larger scandal involving a certain IT company. If the probe took a nasty turn in the future, however, they wouldn’t be so merciful. The number of journalists outside the headquarters had decreased somewhat. But the remaining ones lurked about like shadows of calamity.

So, it was a natural course of events for Lister’s PR team to want to take every precaution possible. The irksome part, though, was that her personal life also had to be taken into account. Things she couldn’t say or do, places she couldn’t go, people she couldn’t associate with. For them, there was no such thing as too much discretion. They did it, they said as they always did, so the media wouldn’t have the chance to. 

“As if they don’t on a regular basis.” Lister’s lip curled into a cynical smile.

“So, breaking law is out of the question,” Booth, her Chief Marketing Officer said. “But please, nothing like you did at London Pride, either. That kind of risque behavior is too much of a risk now.”

Lister caught her reflection on the black screen of her computer, sulking like a three-year-old politician. Very mature. She kept the expression on. “London Pride? What was so risque about my behavior?”

“You kissed a lady on the float.”

At the mention of Ann, her heart dropped into her stomach and shot up her throat at the same time. Ann-- They hadn’t talked since that evening, when Lister insensibly cancelled their dinner over the phone. She took a mental note to text her after this meeting.

“Risque. What a word,” Lister said with a sardonic huff. “Would you use the same word if I were a man, hmm?”

“That’s not what I meant at all, Miss Lister.”

“If me being a gay woman is a PR threat, why don’t you tell it to the board? I’d rather die in the gutter than having to apologise to for I am.”

Booth squirmed in his chair. “What I meant was, is she your girlfriend? And not married like Mrs. Lawton?”

That made Lister balk internally, though she recovered in the next breath. “Mrs. Lawton-- She and I are not involved anymore, I told you that many times.”

“Yes, but it’s true that she still visits you sometimes. It’s hard to brush off any sort of rumours when--”

“We are friends. Two respetable friends who enjoy each other’s company”

“Yes, but given what happened with Mrs. Hobert last year--”

“Nothing’s going on between me and Mrs. Lawton.”

Booth was silent for several seconds, tapping his pen against his chin. “So, you’re just friends?”

Her frustration was building up fast. But she curbed it, saved it for later when Ainsworth called. “Now, Booth,” she said in a gentle tone. “I’ve told you not to use that phrase, haven’t I? The phrases like ‘just friends’ and ‘more than friends’ imply that there’s a hierarchy of relationships, that romantic relationships are somehow above friendships. That kind of view goes against our spirit of inclusivity. So, don’t let me catch you, the PR guy, utter that phrase ever again, and yes, we are friends and not sexually involved. That’s the beginning and the end.”

With a solemn air, Booth bobbed his head. “And the lady on the float?”

“She’s no one-- She’s-- You don’t need to worry about her.” Truth to be told, Lister didn’t know what Ann was to her. Even if her public image wasn’t concerned, she wouldn’t be able to explain it to people. With her head rested on the back of her chair, she took a deep breath. “They can't touch me. Not then, not ever.”

… 

She really meant it. They couldn’t touch her, those vulture journalists. If she really wanted to, Shibden could apply pressure on the media and control them to their advantage. In the face of sheer power, those self-proclaimed truth-seekers were no more than featherless chickens. 

Her board of directors, on the other hand, very well could bring her down if her moves were reckless. She didn’t want to be one of those tactless directors who spent every waking moment kissing the collective arse of their board. But the board was the prophet, and the shareholders were the god. Lister was only the king, the ruler of the world with limitation.

The board held an emergency meeting at the end of July, a week after the probe announcement. Two members were absent, away on holiday. Thus, there were only four of them plus the board secretary, sitting at the round conference table with Lister and Washington.

After the minutes of the last meeting had been reviewed and amended, they cracked on with the issue at hand. Lister shared with them what Ainsworth had told her about the progress of the probe, as well as the very simplified version of his side of the story.

The Chairwoman, Eliza Priestley, looked up from the handout in front of her. “And, you had no knowledge of their suspicious conduct until this announcement?”

“Correct, ma’am,” Lister said.

“We discussed this issue over the past two years. We together looked at Northwich’s financial reports and its revenue growth. We expressed our concerns. And yet, you said there was nothing suspicious, even when the article was published.”

“As I’ve said before, they conducted internal investigations on multiple occasions and found no evidence of such misconduct.”

“Did they hire external experts? Did we talk about this?” Mrs. Priestley said the latter sentence to the other members, who shrugged their shoulders. 

“Well, no, we didn’t,” Lister said. “They didn’t.”

“Did you ask Mr. Ainsworth why?”

“Yes. He said that bringing in outsiders would only be detrimental to the employees’ trust in management.”

Another member, Mr. Pickles, leaned forward. “So, they could have, in theory, misled all the investigations, and you took his words at face value. Is that correct?”

It made Lister sound like a gullible goose. No, a man like Ainsworth would be the last person on earth to earn her trust. The truth was, Lister had never thought Ainsworth had the balls to pull off something like this, something so borderline illegal. Cunning was he, but also chickenhearted-- This was the cause of this catastrophe. Her gut feeling.

“Yes, that is correct,” Lister said. 

“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Priestley crinkled her nose. “But, I find it extremely unbelievable that someone with such great acumen like you has overlooked such a serious issue for such a long time.”

Despite her urge to storm out of the room, Lister gave a smile of surrender. “I’m afraid I’ve disappointed you all. Perhaps, I’m not the prodigy everyone seems to think I am.” 

“So,” Mr. Pickles said, “when you look at the past financial reports, knowing what we know now, could you recognize any sign of dubious conduct?”

Lister ran her eyes over the figures in the reports. Before Ainsworth, their yearly revenue growth rate was about 20% on average. But since two years ago, the figures had skyrocketed. “Well, not any distinct sign, but I certainly could have examined them more closely.”

“You’ve defended that man, Miss Lister,” Mrs Priestley said. “You showed us numbers, convinced us that Mr. Ainsworth’s leadership was beneficial for Northwich Bank.”

“Yes. In hindsight, I see how utterly stupid it was of me. I should’ve made more effort to get to know his character when he took up the post.”

“If the attorney’s office indeed found evidence of some illegal activity, this would be the third strike,” another woman said. “The responsibility would also be on your shoulders.”

The room fell into silence as the implications sank in. The secretary banged away on their keyboard, taking the minutes. The sound irritated Lister.

“Yes, I’m fully aware of that. If indeed it was the case, I must gird myself for any kind of eventuality that you put forward.”

As expected, the gesture of sincerity and conviction satisfied the board, for now. Lister informed them about the precautions her PR team was taking. And they all concluded to wait and see how the case would unfold.

… 

Something jolted Lister out of a power nap in the couch. It took her a few moments to pull herself out of the disorienting haze, the world between sleep and awake. Sleep purgatory. Then, her head snapped up at the scent of a familiar perfume. Before her eyes, she found the face she had been longing to see the most.

“Mariana. Thank God, you are here.” Lister sat up and hugged her wrapped her arms around her waist.

Mariana caressed her head, playing with her hair. “Did you lose your comb, Milton Jones? Are you eating at all?”

Lister shook her head at both of the questions, though she had no idea who Mariana was referring to.

“What happened to your personal chef?”

“I’m giving her time off. Haven’t been home for days now.”

“So what? Make her come in here. Have Eugénie order pizza or fish and chips. How hard can that be?” 

“I’m not hungry.”

Mariana touched her cheek and then her forehead. The cold touch of the rings on her fingers felt soothing against Lister's skin. “Freddie, you’re burning up. Are you certain you should be working?”

As if it was a wake-up call, Lister leapt to her feet and paced about. “No, no time to rest. I have to talk to Washington about a budget cut and then to the lawyers about Northwich in case we have to divest--”

“Shut up, Freddie.” Mariana pulled her back onto the couch. “Dear Lord, you always do this when you get sick.” 

"I always have a high body temperature."

Mariana gave her a loaded look. "Not to this extent."

“Seriously--”

“Shut it. Do you want me to shove a thermometer up your arse?”

“But the investigators are working on the other side of the planet.” Lister tried to stand up, but was held down again.

“I know. But it’s not like this can be resolved in a day if you tried hard enough.”

“I never think it can be resolved in a day if I--”

“Hush. I know you, Freddie, more than anybody in the world. If I don’t intervene here and there, you're going to work yourself to death one of these days." She made Lister lie her head in her lap.

"One of these days, yes. Eventually. I'm a mortal soul as far as I'm aware." Nonetheless, Lister gave in and allowed herself to snicker. She made herself comfortable in that position, throwing her legs over the arm of the couch. 

"I'd like you not to die.” Mariana said. "I know it's an unpopular opinion, but, you know."

“No more sex buddy.”

“Precisely.” Mariana’s fingers ran through her hair, giving her head a massage. 

With a sigh of bliss, Lister closed her eyes and felt her body relax. “Always love it when you do that.”

“I know.” Then, Mariana puffed out her breath. “I saw Christopher Rawson yesterday at the charity event of Mrs. Hemingway. Asked me where you were, as if he didn’t know what’s up. What a bell end.”

“By God, Mariana, are you trying to push me over the edge?”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

Silence fell after that. There were only the ticktock of the desk clock, the occasional ringing of the assistant’s phone outside the office, and the familiar sensation of Mariana’s fingers in her hair. 

Lister felt the sweet fog of sleep slowly wrap around her head again. "You know, I was having a dream about you, about us."

“Were you?”

“Mhmm. Our promises. Our dreams. This could’ve been our life, you know. This. Just us, like when we were young.” She took Mariana’s other hand that was sitting on her abdomen. “I miss those days, still. I miss us. I miss our love. I know the world wasn’t kind to you back then. But if you could’ve just believed in me… and had courage…”

“I love you, Freddie, you know that.” 

“Why couldn’t we be happy together?” At this point, Lister knew she wasn’t entirely lucid. That was why she let a few tears to roll down her face at the tenderness in Mariana’s voice. 

She fell asleep like this, wrapped up in nostalgia. In the arms of the one that had gotten away. When the sound of the intercom woke her up, she still had her head on Mariana’s lap. 

“Washington is here,” Mariana said.

Lister sat up. Her back and neck hurt. On top of it, her throat now felt irritated. 

“You slept for two hours. Not bad, is it?” 

“Hmm.”

For a moment, Lister sat there and stared into space. She didn’t remember most of what she’d said before falling asleep, but remembered saying things, the things they usually avoided like a plague. But still, as they sat together in silence, the weight of the awkwardness in the air fell on her shoulders.

Mariana’s hand came up to touch her forehead. “Still hot. I suppose that’s what you get for neglecting your body for so long. Here, I asked Eugénie to fetch some meds for you.” She waved at the box of antipyretics on the table.

“You aren’t my mum.”

“Damn right, I’m not.”

They stared at each other, smiles gracing their faces. The look in Mariana’s brown eyes was tender, and Lister leaned forward for a kiss. 

But Mariana pulled back. “Sorry. It’s just that your fever--”

“Oh, forget it.” Lister rolled her eyes and popped some pills into her mouth, feeling the swell of her throat as the water went down. 

Mariana rested her hand on her knee. "I hate to be the bringer of a further disturbance, but there's something I have come to tell you. It's about Charles."

Lister directed all her attention to her. "Did he die?" 

That seemed to be the only rational reason for Mariana herself to bring him up. 

"No, not dead. Yet. He had a stroke last night, fell into a coma. But taking the location of the stroke into consideration, the doctor said the chances of him waking up were rather slim."

"Oh, Mariana, I'm so sorry."

Mariana's lip curled up in a small smile. "We both know you aren't. I'm not. After all, this is what we've always wished for, isn't it?"

Lister took a moment to contemplate. The next question must be asked with caution. "So, what do you plan to do now?"

"Well, I couldn't do anything right away, of course. I have to wait. His children insist on giving him at least a couple of months. Being the evil stepmother that I already am, they might burn me at the stake at the vaguest suggestion for pulling the plug."

Lister nodded. "And then, what?"

There was hesitation in Mariana's eyes as she looked down, slipping her hand into Lister’s nonetheless. "We could live together, like we always said we would."

"And get married? Introduce me to your family as your wife? Wear the ring I give you in public? Can you do that?"

The corner of Mariana's lips twitched in a nervous smile. "Well, there's no need to rush like that. Who knows, he might wake up, or his children might extend the care, or--"

"Or you might find another man to get married to, I got it."

"Freddie--"

"I'll be waiting without any expectation, then. Whether your yes or an invitation to your wedding, I don't know, but sure. I'll be waiting." Lister pushed her hand away, not too strongly in fear of appearing _ that _ salty, but enough to get the message across. She stood up. 

"Please, don't be like that."

Lister whipped around. "Don't be like what? What, Mariana? Be constantly disappointed by your inaction and cowardice?" The yelling inflamed her throat, making her voice coarse, but she couldn’t let it bother her now.

"I need more time to think. Everything is happening too--"

"Time for what? We've been at this for twenty years, for God's sake. How much longer do I have to be tormented by your excuse after excuse?"

"Not everyone is like you, _ Anne _." Mariana's voice deepened. "Not everyone comes from a background where being different is encouraged and embraced--”

“Are you serious? Have you met my family?”

“--Some of us still, to this day, have to struggle as we are torn between our true selves and survival, the shame that has been embedded by our own family and community. And you told me to take time, when I told you this for the first time. You told me you'd wait as long as I needed to sort this thing out. Even years, if I had to. Don't you remember? Those were your words."

They started into each other's eyes filled with tears, chests heaving. Mariana's gaze felt too piercing, and Lister had to concede and be the first one to look away. 

"But, twenty years…"

"I hope you do know that it has never been easy for me." Mariana met her eyes again, lip quivering. "You are very fast, Anne. Sometimes, all I could ever do is to try not to get left behind."

With a deep breath, Lister kept the surge of tears at bay. Had she been younger, she would have run up to Mariana and pulled her into an embrace, told her how indestructible their love was despite everything and kissed her deeply, made more promises that were no more meaningful than the ornamental foliage plant in the corner of the office. But they had gotten too old for this, and Lister didn't know how to slow down for anybody anymore.

“I’ve got to go," Lister said. "People’s lives are at stake.”

Standing up, Mariana ran a hand across the broad of Lister’s back. “You can do this, Freddie. You’re strong enough. You are going to be fine.” 

How wretched. Both of them.

There had been a time when Mariana was the only person she could be not strong with. Those days were over now, perhaps.

“I know,” Lister said. She fixed her jacket and stared down at Mariana. "I know I am."

…

Then, another two weeks passed. Time flew when everyday was a survival crisis. In the midst of this growing ordeal, Lister still had to pay attention to her usual duties. Meetings with knob-heads, going to charity events, keeping up with the world news, and reading report after report. Nothing managed to truly bring Lister to a halt. The moment she stopped, she feared in some corner of her mind, all of the gears and screws would come falling apart. And there would be no putting herself back together. She did them all on autopilot.

The interviews with the authorities were going well so far. Americans, their sense of humour and taste in fashion were deplorable at best, and for this Lister found them tricky to deal with. They thought the same about her, though, she knew. 

Their questions were more or less the same as the ones already thrown at her by her board. And like her board, they seemed to believe that, at least, Shibden Group had had no knowledge of Northwich Bank’s questionable operation. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Lister. We’ll be in touch,” they said and left the office.

With a brisk stride, Lister escorted them out to the elevator and saw them off. As soon as the door closed, however, her flamboyance vanished. She slouched along the corridor, her legs too heavy and sleepy. 

At the assistant desk, she received mail and messages from Eugénie. 

“Ma’am, Baroness Blucher’s birthday is coming up.”

“Hmm. Yes, what shall I send her?” Lister said, her gaze not focused on anything in particular as she looked through the mail.

“You promised at the party in Copenhagen back in February to send her that… that glass sculpture. The cube thing.”

“Hmm. Yes, that’s an excellent idea.”

“And, Mrs. Rawson. Her illness has deteriorated recently. Would you like me to send her a fruit basket and a card?”

“Yes, I would.” 

“And this.” Eugénie handed her a small packet. “Mrs. Hussein left this for you. Said it was from"--she looked at a post-it on her computer screen--"Miss Walker."

Lister felt her heart pound at the name. The packet had cookies in it, visible through the clear wrapping adorned with a red ribbon, and a heart-shaped message card. 

Thanking Eugénie, Lister scurried back to her desk.

There, she opened the packet and pulled the card out. _ Hope all is well. _ That was all it said, nothing else on the other side. Lister couldn’t make out the connotation of it. Could this be a warning of a sort, that her patience was running out? Maybe. Ann totally looked like the passive-aggressive type.

It had been a month since the last time they saw each other. The thought of Ann had flashed across her consciousness almost everyday, sometimes even snuck into Lister’s dreams. But everytime she had sought to contact her, something--her personal phone missing, a phone call from an important figure, unbearable sleepiness, general work-related issues--thwarted her attempt, and it would slip out of her mind again. Hussein was the Chief Curator at the gallery on the third floor. Ann must have been at the gallery for the exhibit preparation.

Lister searched for her private phone and, after a minute or two, found it in one of the drawers. But holding down the power button, she realized the battery was dead. She plugged it into a socket. The icon of a battery appeared on the otherwise black screen, a thin line of red at the left-hand end of the battery being the only color. It’d take a while to have enough power to be turned on. But if she shifted her attention away here, she feared she might forget again. So, she continued to stare at it.

The intercom beeped. “Ma’am, Mr. Priestley is on the line.”

Why were his calls always so ill-timed? She still vacillated, but after a moment of indecision, opted not to let this one deter her. "I'm busy. Tell him to call back in ten minutes." 

Looking back down at her phone, however, she found herself wondering. Did she have time for Miss Walker now, with this scandal that could possibly be a dormant volcano? Her days were already hectic enough. But, yes, she concluded. She must find time for her. Their bond was still flimsy, and more than enough time had already gone to waste. Lister could not lose any more momentum and risk Ann’s infatuation fading. If the probe resulted in a disaster--fingers crossed it wouldn’t--then, she could put distance again like now. Ann wouldn’t think of leaving if Lister paid her attention from time to time. And if the probe found nothing, hallelujah, Lister could continue with her quest.

Anyhow, they made a promise. Lister had to keep it. 

The phone still hadn’t been charged enough. Putting it aside, she searched for Ann's website on her computer. Her contact info. was there. She punched in the number on the office phone.

“Hello?” 

“Good afternoon, this is Anne Lister of Shibden-- I mean, it’s Anne. Your, um-- I got your cookies. I feel terrible, Ann. You know, I--”

“It’s okay. I told you I’d be fine.” It sounded like Ann was outside, the wind blowing into the phone. “I was just worried about you. You looked-- Well, on the telly, you looked a little worn out.”

It was a surprising response. Lister had half expected Ann to burst into tears and spit off bitter words. “On the telly? When?”

“Well-- When the news was brought to light. A very brief footage of you entering the headquarters or something like that. It might not have been the telly. Maybe on the internet. I don’t remember much.” She spoke fast. “But you looked tired. I’ve texted you, but Marian said you had your personal phone turned off.”

“That’s right.” Lister still struggled to overcome her bafflement. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

There was a brief pause. “Why would I be?”

“I stood you up. I didn’t even call you for a month.”

Ann laughed. “But I know you didn’t mean to let it happen. My dad used to say there are some things in life that you just can’t control. It’s fine, really. I’m busy, too, with the exhibition. Ms. Hussein said I needed a new piece, so…”

Lister’s heart prickled. This was exactly what she had feared. Ann not missing her. 

But then, Ann said, “You know, I wanted to be there for you, to hold you, to be the shoulder to lean on. I just wasn’t sure if I was the one you needed.”

“You were.” Her response was automatic, and Lister regretted it immediately. It was a lie. A feeling of disgust at herself filled her heart.

Ann hummed. “Are you eating alright?” 

“I eat whenever possible, which is admittedly not very often. I’m giving my personal chef some time off. I didn’t want anyone in my house.”

“Let me cook for you some time, if you feel like it. That’s the least I could do to help.”

Lister listened to her voice, the mumbling and stuttering of her, and imagined those blue eyes looking straight back into hers. Like the night they’d kissed in the rain. How she wished in that moment to take Ann’s hand and kiss her deeply.

For the first time since the probe announcement, a genuine smile crept on Lister's lips. “God, I miss”--_ you _\--”your lips. I miss kissing you, Ann.”

“You do?”

One of the buttons on the office phone lit up, an indication that the assistant’s line was busy. Mr. Priestley already called back, then. 

“I’ve got to go,” Lister said. “How about-- I mean, tomorrow evening or the day after, do you have any plans?”

“No, just working on my project like any other day.”

“Really? Do you happen to have time for a lass like me? Because, I was thinking maybe we could”--she lowered her voice--“finish what we planned.”

Ann must have moved inside a building. There was no bustle of activity on the other side of the phone. Only Ann’s breathing and the sound of her wetting her lips. “I’d like that,” she said at last. “Can I cook for you?”

“Yes, please. Well, that’s that, then.” But Lister soon grew serious. “And I promise I would show up this time no matter what. A missile or an apocalypse, I'll be there. Pinky promise.” Lister held up her pinky in the air and heard Ann laugh.

“Pinky promise.” 

Lister felt, in spite of the distance, their pinkies connected by an invisible force.

They said goodbye and ended the call. 

After a moment of relishing the sense of calm, Lister returned to earth and picked up the call from Mr. Priestly. Turned out he wanted to know if tomorrow’s dinner was still on, and if the new Italian restaurant on Chadwick Street sounded fine. 

So, while eating the cookies from Ann, Lister told him to call it off. He was married to the Chairwoman of her board, and any unnecessary personal conflict with a board member was less than ideal. But screw it. He was a push-over and not Mayor of London. With the right choice of words, she inveigled him into screening her from his wife.

When she hung up the phone, Lister strode to the assistant’s desk with a new surge of energy. “Eugénie, I just cancelled tomorrow’s dinner with the Priestleys. Mr. Priestley will call you back to reschedule.” She turned on her heel, but whipped around again to face her assistant again. “Oh, and before I forget-- It’s Jack Storms, for Baroness Blucher, but not the cube. Send her the teardrop one.”

Back in the office, she turned on her phone at last. There were, as Ann had said, several texts from her, all patient and sympathetic. Not at all passive-aggressive.

Lister texted her back, _Tomorrow at 1730?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I'm forever bitter about HBO cutting short the thermometer scene. Mariana often gets hate for how she treated Anne, which is understandable. (Note that my Mariana has no desire to change Anne) But she was in a way a victim of that era. I wanted to do her justice. And how Lydia Leonard played her? A masterpiece.
> 
> 2) For those of you not familiar with Jack Storms' work, check this one out!  
http://s3files.core77.com/blog/images/2015/01/0jackstorms005.jpg


	7. A nice drawer chest. Nice taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) So, the last chapter caused a bit of a stir... Unexpectedly... Yes, Anne is an asshole, and her clownery has yet to end. I like writing morally questionable characters, and Anne Lister's grey area fascinates me.
> 
> 2) Special thanks to JaneC. I've rewritten the last chapter mainly regarding the business drama. If interested, check it out. It's a whole different chapter. Got some Ann(e)s interaction now ;) And since I've made changes in the timeline, the exhibit scene will appear again in the future lol
> 
> Anyways, here's a happy chapter :)))  
It has smut?

The next day, Lister left the office at four p.m. to get her hair cut. She went home to shower and change into fresh clothes, grabbed her toothbrush and other night things and two of her finest wines--red and white, since Ann insisted on keeping the menu a secret. She got a bouquet of red roses from her favorite flower shop, and rang on Ann’s doorbell at five-thirty on the dot.

Ann let her in. In comfortable silence of suspense, they stood in the foyer, grinning from ear to ear at one another. 

With a tingling in the tips of her fingers, Lister cocked her head. “Well?”

So, with a giggle, Ann welcomed her hug and kiss. The first kiss in a long time. It drew both of them out of the dormant state, their bodies quivering in unison. Lister pinned her to the wall harder. With the wine bottles and bouquet occupying both of her hands, she found the position slightly awkward, but still poured all of her into it. She had almost forgotten the gentle yet urgent way Ann pressed her lips against hers. Her head was already swimming. 

Something beeped somewhere deep inside the house.

Ann forced their bodies apart, chuckling. “That’s the timer.” She took the bouquet and led Lister to the dining room by the hand. 

The table had been set, with a humble centerpiece of pink, red, and purple roses. There was a spicy aroma wafting from the kitchen, making her mouth water as if her body had just remembered the concept of hunger.

“I made chicken masala,” Ann said. “Marian told me you like spicy food, so…”

“Oh--” Lister was a bit too late to hide her grimace.

“Do you not like it?”

“No-- I mean, I do. Curry. Sounds wonderful. But--” Lister put the wine bottles down on the table and laughed. “Neither of these goes really well with it. Oh, well.”

“Oh gosh, I should’ve told you.” Ann frowned. “I made lassi. I really should’ve told you--”

Lister rushed to take her hands. “All is fine. We have plenty of time to enjoy them later, yeah?”

So, Ann put the red roses in a vase, placing it on a small stand near the dining table. Lister sat at the table and let Ann, who insisted she not help, serve her. The lassi tasted rather too sweet for Lister’s taste buds, but the curry was delicious.

Ann, on the other hand, sipped her lassi often, the tip of her tongue sticking out for cool air. Her forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat. “Is this too spicy for you?”

“Just the right amount. Are you alright?”

“Of course.”

Litser chuckled. “This is, honest to God, the best food I’ve had in a while. All I’ve had lately is cold pizza and those brittle energy bars past their expiration dates that I’d excavated from my desk drawers.”

“You ought to take care of your body. It makes me sad to see you all… wizen.”

“Wizen? That's a word, isn't it? Like a flower?”

“I’m serious, Anne--”

“So am I. Tell me, what kind of flower would I be if I were one?” Lister leaned forward. Her grin widened when Ann couldn’t answer. “I think, if you were a flower, you’d be-- Let’s see… the jasmine. Delicate, petite, and smells just  _ amazing _ .”

As per usual, Ann tried to hide her blush behind her glass of lassi, but in vain. 

… 

After the dinner, they moved to the living room couch and enjoyed the red wine Lister had brought. They exchanged kisses here and there that had the lingering flavors of the curry and lassi. 

The liquor was beginning to hit Lister. She felt feverish, impatient, hungry. She claimed Ann’s lips as if to make up for all the kisses they’d missed. At each moan that escaped Ann’s mouth, her heart throbbed, the pressure in her lower abdomen growing more and more unbearable. But every time their kiss became heated, Ann seemed to shy away.

“Are you alright?” Lister said.

With a flush creeping up her neck, Ann looked down and nodded.

“Would you like to me stop?”

“No. Please, don’t.” Ann furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry. I’m being weird, aren't I? It’s just that, I think I’ve forgotten how it’s like to be around you a little.”

"Forgotten?"

Ann nodded, still half buried in thought. “For the past month, I kept telling myself that this was real, that this”--she lightly took Lister’s sleeve between her fingers--“wasn’t a product of my fever dream. But it was easy to go back to those days of… hopelessly crushing on you. So, this makes me feel a bit disoriented, like being woken up from a deep, deep sleep.”

“Ann--”

“Which is good, maybe?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yeah. It's overwhelming, but in the most wonderful way. I get to experience everything like it's the first time. Feeling your warmth, kissing you, things like that. Yes, it is good.” It sounded like Ann was still talking to herself rather than to Lister, but there was a smile growing on her face. 

Lister caressed Ann’s cheek. “It is.”

They brought their lips together in a kiss that got Lister lightheaded. Each kiss from then forward was more intense than the last. Ann’s fingers dug at her shoulders, egging her on. But this time, it was Lister who pulled away.

“I just remembered--” Lister sat up and held out her hand. “Give me your phone?”

Without a question, Ann handed it to her.

“I might forget about it again when you’re kissing me like that.” Lister whipped her own smartphone out while running the phone app on Ann’s. She typed in. “This is the number of my business phone. I’ve turned my private one back on, but when I can’t be reached, call me at this number.” Tapping the green phone receiver icon, she smiled as her own phone vibrated. She hung up and gave it back to Ann. “And I might ring you up, too, just to hear your voice.”

Ann smiled down at the screen. She added the number to Lister’s already existing contact info. As the app closed, the columns of apps on the home screen caught Lister’s eye. 

“How’s it going with your Instagram follower count? The gallery’s account has introduced you, last week?”

“A fortnight ago.”

“May I see?”

Ann nodded, opening the app. “It’s gone up to four hundred. It’s still not many, but--”

“Give it time. The exhibition hasn’t even started.” Lister leaned in towards her and tapped the latest post. “Let's see. Are they nice to you?” she said, scrolling down to the comment section.

Ann hummed.

But among the encouraging comments, Lister saw some hateful ones. They had nothing to do with her art. Instead, they spat homophobic slurs and called her a whore for opening her legs to Anne Lister for publicity. 

“It’s the internet,” Ann said. “It happens. Marian said it was best not to feed their ego by paying attention to them.”

“Still, you should’ve told me. I mean-- Yes, I was out of reach, but--”

Ann gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s true that I didn’t expect my coming out story to be like this, but… They are cowards, hiding behind their anonymity.” 

“You could sue them for harassment. I have an exceptional team of lawyers--”

“I don’t care what they say, because I know they are wrong.”

Although Lister wanted to say more, she caught Ann’s eyes dart down to her lips. There was no choice but to drop the subject, then, when Ann looked at her like that. Lister pressed her lips against hers and pulled her in her arms. When she slipped her tongue into Ann’s mouth, there was none of the earlier sheepishness. Only a needy groan and a jerk of her hips.

Lister ghosted her thumb over Ann’s collarbones. “Bed?”

The nod Ann gave had not an ounce of hesitation. 

They ran upstairs, hands all over each other’s body once they reached the landing. Passing the studio and the grandfather’s clock by the bathroom, they managed to stumble into the bedroom. Ann closed the door and leaned up against it. There was a desperate and yet mischievous grin on her lips. As Lister stood in the middle of the room, they stared into each other’s eyes, the air thick with anticipation. 

But not yet. Lister’s playful nature kicked in. 

Without breaking eye contact, she stalked around the room. “Never been in here before.” She ran her hand over the furtunitre, as if marking her territory. “A nice drawer chest. Nice taste.”

Ann remained in the same place. Her gaze felt intense enough to bore a hole in Lister’s face. 

Still, Lister didn’t look away. “And what do we have here?” She went to the bedside stand. “A nice lamp.”

“Anne--”

Feigning unconcern, Lister climbed into the well-made bed and lay on her side. She propped herself on one elbow, while running the other hand over the white bed sheet. “Silk.” She raised an eyebrow at Ann. "I do hope this is not the best bedsheet you have. Is it?"

"It is," Ann said in an undertone. “Why?”

“Because I’d be loath to get it dirty.” Her own heart raced at the sight of Ann trying to grab at the door for support. At last, she put up two fingers in a beckoning motion. “Come here.”

Ann wobbled over with a heaving chest. She stood by the bed, looking down at Lister. Waiting for the next command.

Lister sat up on the edge of the bed and played with the hem of Ann’s dress. Her fingertips grazed the skin of her knees underneath it. “Well, well, well.”

Ann’s dress slipped off her shoulders, down her torso and hips, and pooled around her ankles on the floor. Her white chaste underwear was a nice contrast to her flushed skin. Lister undid a couple of the buttons of her own shirt. She let her eyes roam over the petite body, observing each freckle on her abdomen, chest, and neck. 

Her hands slowly slithered up Ann’s hips to caress her sides, thumbs slightly digging into the rib cage right below the underwire of her bra. But then, Ann’s hand shot up to grab her by the wrists. Lister looked up to find, not an impatient look, but a suppressed grin. It looked as if--

Lister smirked. “Pardon me, miss, are you ticklish?” 

“No--” But Ann kept her grips tight around her wrists. 

Lister dropped her serious countenance and laughed. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not--” Her speech ended with a shriek as Lister tickled her harder. 

Laughing and much in disarray, they threw themselves onto the mattress. Lister kissed her jawline and collarbones, took off her bra, and sat up to completely unbutton her own shirt. Her trousers and sport bra also fell to the floor with soft thuds. It was only then when Ann's laughter died down, replaced by shaky intakes of breath. Her blue eyes travelled from Lister's hips covered in boxer shorts to her abdomen to her chest.

Try as she might, Lister knew her forty-two-year-old body couldn’t be the same as Ann’s youthful one. Still, Ann regarded her with unfaltering adoration and need, and Lister felt the throb between her legs intensify.

Lister kissed the back of her hand and then the inside of her wrist before lowering her head to plant kisses down her body. She made sure not to place her hands on her ticklish belly anymore. That sort of fun was put aside for later. Instead, her middle finger drew small circles on the protrusion of Ann’s hipbone just underneath the waistband of her knickers. It made her squirm a bit, but also pulled out a breathy moan through her parted lips. A good sign. Sensitive nerves like these could bring about a strong sense of arousal if stimulated in the right way. With that thought in mind, Lister ventured a little more and nipped lightly at the other hipbone, which elicited a desired response. Ann’s squirming got worse, the entire body undulating. Lister held her hips in place and nipped more. She even used her teeth a few times, and relished the low-pitched groans Ann let out above her. 

After taking off Ann's knickers with her consent, Lister hovered over her, fingers still drawing circles on her hipbone. She couldn't help her teasing for the last time. 

“Are you alright, Miss Walker? We could wait a little longer if you wanted to take it slow.”

With shallow and rapid breath, Ann closed her eyes. But when they opened back, there was a spark of naked vulnerability that pierced deep into Lister’s heart. "I feel as if my life had only started when you came along. And you’re so experienced, so full of life, and I feel so left behind." Her hand came up to cup her cheek. "I want to take everything that you are willing to give me, just so I could get a little closer to you.” 

And like this, Ann Walker, this simple girl of only twenty nine, yet again managed to leave Lister speechless, managed to disequilibrate her, to unhinge her. 

"Good Lord." She buried her face in Ann's neck. "It's not often that I blush, Ann, especially not in bedrooms."

Ann giggled. 

So, Lister covered her mouth with her own and resumed her work. It didn't take a lot of time to bring Ann to orgasm after that. Not slow enough, Lister found herself lamenting as the walls around her fingers undulated. She had wanted to take her time with her, to appreciate all of her. Perhaps, next time. 

She was about to pull her fingers out when Ann wrapped her fingers around the wrist. 

"Stay," Ann said, her chest all flushed. "Please, stay a little longer inside. I want to feel you."

With a drumming heart, Lister obeyed, resting her head on Ann' heart. 

…

At the end of the night, after two more climaxes on Ann’s part and a shower, Ann lay with her head on Lister’s arm. She let out a wistful sigh, followed by a yawn. Her hand travelled along Lister’s torso with no aim. Just feeling the skin for the sake of it, it seemed to Lister, like a new tattoo or a new haircut. Then, her fingers found the red-stone necklace that perched at the base of Lister’s throat. She held it, observed it. 

“I was looking through my old photos,” Ann said. “You were wearing this at the pride parade when I first met you, I think. Is it from someone you love?”

Lister didn’t know what to say. Someone she loved. Mariana. But she couldn't find it in her heart to lie to Ann. “It is.”

Ann’s eyes were still trained on it. “Is the person still with us?”

“Yes, she is,” Lister said with a soft laugh. 

“Is it from your mother?”

Perhaps, Lister should’ve taken the necklace off. Then, she wouldn’t have had to bare the awkwardness of the conversation that Ann seemed to be blind to. It just hadn’t occurred to her. Taking it off felt like stripping herself naked.

“No, my mother is dead.”

The silence that fell had unnecessary sorrow in it as Ann nuzzled further into the side of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Of course, not. Just as I said, it happened many years ago.”

“I still miss mine.” It was barely a whisper. 

But Lister didn’t say anything in return, couldn’t. She soon fell asleep and dreamed about the calm ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody asked, but my fav books are The Stranger by Albert Camu & No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai. If you like reading non-fanfic, I highly recommend them. You'll understand my taste.


	8. I knew she was a geek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the thing. If you enjoy this story, I've got a tip jar on [Kofi ](https://ko-fi.com/mikafkagami0910). I have a decent-paying job, so it's not like I'm in desperate need. But I'd appreciate it if you could donate a small portion. Thank you :)

They talked to each other as much as Lister’s schedule permitted. Even on hectic days, she would force herself to take a ‘lunch break’ to call Ann just for ten minutes. She would lay sprawled out on her office couch, feet perched on the armrest, and listen to Ann’s voice. It soothed her more than she’d imagined it would. One time, she made a fatal mistake of closing her eyes and had a fright when Eugénie’s voice startled her awake thirty minutes later. So, she kept her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. 

A couple of days shy of September, Ann visited her office. 

It was a Wednesday. The main focus was marketing and PR. It was during a meeting with Booth that Ann came. Lister, wrapping up the meeting quickly but with efficiency, replaced her CMO with her Ann.

“How’s the exhibition prep going?” Lister said as they sat in the couch.

“Good. I’m going to be sore tomorrow, though. I think Ms. Hussein was vexed that I refused to let anybody help with my work.”

“Nonsense. She speaks very highly of you.”

Ann gave a sheepish smile. Then, with another type of smile, she brought a tupperware out of her giant bag at her feet. “I made some frittata and roasted chicken.”

The warmth of it could still be felt through the container. “You’re a goddess.” Lister cupped her cheek and brought their lips together.

With her eyes closed, Ann let out a sigh of bliss as they parted. “How’s work?”

“Work is fine.” 

“What about the thing with the American bank?”

“Hmm, it's complicated." Lister put the tupperware on the coffee table. Ready to drop the subject, she leaned forward for another kiss.

But Ann’s mouth opened, words trapped inside. 

Despite her pent-up appetence, Lister gave an encouraging look.

"I'd like to see you try," Ann said and blushed. "I mean, I’m not knowledgeable about this kind of stuff. But sometimes, when something bothers me, then I talk to someone about it, I find that it actually helps me. Sort it out better. Even though all the other person does is listen. So--" She almost laughed it off, but continued, "So, I'd like to be that person for you, or I'd like to try to be. I mean, unless you already have someone that--"

"I don't.” She really didn’t.

Ann gave a smile. “Then, I’d like to be that person. Your… verbal vomit bin." 

Lister, with tenderness spread through the heart, burst out in laughter. "You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?"

Ann shook her head and giggled, biting her lip. And the way she still dropped her eyes bashfully, as if it had exhausted her bravery, set Lister’s heart to fluttering. She took Ann’s hand and looked into her face. 

Something had changed between them, Lister realised at that moment. She searched for a clue or the answer itself in Ann’s eyes, but there was only the look of sincerity that Ann always wore. She wore it with ease, as if it was part of her skin. Or, possibly, the entirety of her skin. Then, the only thing that popped into Lister’s mind was that, if the question had come a few days ago, she would've without a doubt shrugged it off or lied.

The notion itself threw her off, and she couldn't afford to think anymore. She met Ann’s gaze again, and looked at their connected hands. For a moment, it felt like her eyes prickled with tears. She attribute it to her fatigue. 

With a sigh, then, she began talking about the twat of Ainsworth, the nature of the probe and accusations, the divestiture pre-prep of Northwich Bank if they ever came to that decision, the media scrutiny, her relationship with the board of directors, and on and on. “...And on top of all that, the fiscal quarter ends in a month, which means I’ll have to be up to my ears in financial reports and also kissing arses of my board members. I sometimes wish I could time-travel and see the future so I’d know what to expect. I can’t be bothered with the present.” Lister looked at Ann, who clearly had trouble keeping up, and chuckled to herself. “Lord, I did babble, didn’t I? How embarrassing.”

“No, I’m glad you told me.”

“I didn’t make much sense most likely.”

“No, but… I can’t imagine how hard it must be. You see, I think I told you that my cousins are business people.”

The mention of the Rawsons made Lister squirm. She wished Ann would stop keeping them a secret from her.

Ann went on, “They sometimes ask me-- Well, not ask me, but jokingly suggest that I take a bigger role in their business like my father did. But, I won't be good at managing a business by any possibility. I don’t have what it takes.” 

"Probably not. You're not cruel enough."

“Oh, I don’t think cruelty is… I mean, if it was the essence of it, I don’t think you’d be a wonderful leader, either.”

Lister lost her tongue for a second. “Is that right?”

Ann nodded. “Like you said in the elevator, when I first came here, you can be strict when necessary. But you're kind to the right people, people that need it. When I met you for the first time at the pride-- It’s embarrassing, but I was so overwhelmed that I started to cry in front of you. You don’t remember, do you?” She let out a laugh. “But, you were patient with me, listened to my rubbish… It’s never changed. Even now, you’re one of the kindest people I know. That’s why so many people look up to you.”

It was beyond sweet and flattering. Lister felt, as those words echoed in her head, a ghost of morbid fear. She had felt it before, she supposed. The feeling of congestion, a clogged artery near the heart. But until now, she could’ve never pin it down. 

Who was this person Ann was talking about? It couldn’t possibly be her. That wasn’t the Anne Lister she knew.

Ann watched her, and grimaced. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No. No.”

“I have.” Ann let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “What am I doing? I wanted to offer you catharsis, and here I am, ending up sounding like a class-A stalker.”

“It was cathartic. You said nothing wrong.” Lister took her hands. “I’m just not good at this… kind of stuff. You know, emotion. But I’m glad I have you. I’m glad it was you I told you all this.”

Ann’s eyes widened slightly, seemed to well up with tears. “Are you?”

“I am.” She was.

They pressed their lips together. Ann was eager in her own quiet, passionate way, urging Lister on with a hand at the back of her neck. 

Not before long, however, the intercom beeped. “Ma’am, Mr. Ainsworth is on the line.”

Their lips parted, and Ann separated their bodies, too. “I suppose I should let you go,” she said with a smile.

Oh, Ainsworth would get a big kick out of this call, interrupting their sweet time like this. 

“Yes, I wouldn’t want you witnessing my wrath right after telling me what a saint I am.” Lister rose to her feet and, to her dismay, watched Ann follow suit. “I wish I could take you out on a date.”

“This is a date.”

“Well, it’s my shabby office. There’s no romanticism or sensuality in it. I’m thinking somewhere spectacular, like a helicopter ride over Buckingham Palace.”

Ann let out a breathy chuckle. “I’m more than content that you spend time with me, or simply be in the same room. I’m sure I’d be the luckiest girl just watching you work.” Furrowing her brow, she ducked her head. “Sorry. Stalkerish again.”

They had walked over to the closed door, but Lister made no move to open it as they stood. Instead, she lightly pressed Ann up against it, stealing her lips for a last time. “In that case, I have a proposition. You could certainly say no.”

“Yes?”

“If you could wake up at five-thirty in the morning, we could take a walk for about an hour.”

A twinkle appeared in Ann’s eyes. “Yes, I could. Five-thirty?”

“Hmm. Or earlier? I usually wake up at five--”

“Five is fine, too.”

Lister couldn’t help her smile at this unabashed enthusiasm. “Or how about four o’clock? Three?”

“Any time you’d like.” Ann shot back the brightest smile. 

So, they decided tomorrow at five o’clock would do, shared a feather-light kiss, and said goodbye. Ainsworth nearly cried at Lister’s explosive wrath, which exacerbated her even more.

…

The next morning was a lovely one, albeit slightly cloudy as it always was in London. Lister fetched Ann at her house, and together they took a brisk walk around Hyde Park. 

Ann was clad in her exercise clothes. There was a distinctive allure about that look, which her usual elegant attire didn’t possess. And Lister had hard time taking her eyes off her, not that she wanted to anyhow. Not when Ann gave a meek grin upon catching her blatant gaze. 

There were already some people at the park. Dog-walkers, joggers, pensioners talking on the benches, overly eager tourists. As the early birds sang over their heads, Ann pointed at them in the trees with glee. She stopped here and there, crouching down to take pictures of the scenery and flowers. Lister, on the other hand, felt content just watching her, etching this view with Ann in it into her memory. 

“This is so nice,” Ann said. “The air is so fresh. I always sleep in, but I could get used to this.”

“You should come to my flat next time. I got a swimming pool there.”

“I’d like that.”

“I swim in men’s swimwear.”

Ann stopped dead in her tracks, her cheeks ever more flushed. Clearing her throat, she shuffled to the bench on the side of the track. “Could we sit down a little?”

Lister dissolved into laughter. “Have I flustered you that much, Miss Walker?”

“No--” Ann sat down. “It’s just that-- My feet are killing me, that’s all. Nothing to do with…” But she didn’t bother finishing her sentence. 

“I could give you a massage later if you’d like?” Lister gave a wink as she sat down next to her. 

Ann bit her lip. “Aren’t you, at least, a bit tired?”

“I’m used to it. I genuinely think I make an excellent walking racer.”

“You do walk fast, yes. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

“Really?” Lister said in a serious tone. “You should’ve told me. I thought I was walking slowly for you, but if you need me to--”

Ann shook her head, smiling. “It’s fine. It’s good exercise.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Lister nodded a few times, searching for any sign of falsehood in Ann’s expression. Then, her serious demeanor was gone. “Well, if you happened to be looking to exercise more--”

“Stop it! We are in public!” Ann gave her a playful shove in the shoulder. 

Lister caught her hand and pulled her in. “Stop what, Miss Walker? Oh, you have such a dirty mind. That wasn’t where I was going at all--”

Their little racket attracted attention in the calmness of the early morning. A man walking a dog threw them a dubious eye as he passed by. They hid their faces in each other’s neck, trying to muffle and control their laughter.

Ann heaved a mock sigh. “It’s your fault,” she said in a whisper.

After their mirth had calmed down, they sat there in relative silence. Lister checked her wrist watch and found, with mild surprise, that it was almost time she got back to prepare for the day. 

With her head tilted slightly upwards, Ann fixed her gaze on the birds up in the trees. “I used to wish I was a bird as a child,” she said. “A wild bird, not a bird trapped inside a cage. A wild, free bird.” The sunlight, weak as it was, reflected off Ann’s skin, making her freckles surface across the face. 

Lister wished time would slow down. “And now? Do you still want to be a bird?”

“No, I don’t think so. I like being a human, as bad as I might be at it sometimes. I couldn’t have gotten so close to you if I’d been a bird anyway.” Ann threw her a glance. “Plus, I like the sky.”

“You do?”

Ann nodded. “It never fails to amaze me. It’s limitless. I don’t know if birds appreciate the sky like us, but we certainly have a unique perspective, being on earth.”

It was the early hours that made this kind of conversation extra intimate, Lister supposed. The sense of alienation one might feel in a place so empty in the centre of a big city. The notion that most people’s days hadn’t even begun yet. The feeling that this was a foreign planet they stood on, alone, together.

“And, I prefer the night sky,” Ann said and flashed a smile. “You can’t see the stars when you’re a bird, can you?”

“Hmm, suppose not.”

“It used to be my theme, you know. The night sky. When I used to paint. The ones you bought when you first came to my studio, they were the night sky. Inspired by it, that is."

Lister had no idea. Those painting--she sometimes stood in front of them when she needed to concentrate--brought nothing of the sort to mind. "I didn't see them that way, to be honest. I wonder why I didn’t ask you about it at that time. Anyhow, I shall try when I go to the office today."

A touch of red crept up Ann’s neck as she nodded.

“The night sky, huh?” Lister said. “Have you talked to Marian about it?”

“No. Why?”

“She’s an astronomy geek. She would go absolutely mental at the slightest mention of stars and the universe.”

Sunlight shimmered in Ann’s eyes. “I didn’t know that. We talk about a lot of things, but astronomy, not yet. I knew she was a geek, but I got the sense that she was a culinary geek. The way she just talks about food and cooking appliances is so…” 

“She has lots of passions, yes. I haven’t spoken to her in a while, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s added another hobby to the list.”

“She asks me about you sometimes, how you’re doing. It often makes me feel like an emissary of some kind.” Ann chuckled. “Why don’t you talk, if you’re worried about each other?”

“I never know what to talk about. One minute of exchanging pleasantries, and then, we somehow find a way to quarrel.”

“Yes, she told me that.”

“Now that we live apart, it’s better. It was absolute chaos when we were teenagers. It’s always her, though. She just knows how to push my buttons.”

“Yes, she told me that also.” Her giggles were contagious.

“Really? Well, there you go. A topic we have in common and are equally passionate about.”

Ann looked down with a smile, only to meet her gaze again. “Does that mean she knows stuff about constellations?"

"Possibly. Maybe she's holding back so as not to weird you out. Last Christmas, she ordered a state-of-the-art telescope and made me pay for it.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Hmm. So, yes. You should ask her, if you dare.” Lister cast a quick glance at her watch again. She really must get going if she wanted to shower and catch up with the world news.

“What about you?” Ann said. “Do you like the night sky?”

“I don’t really, um… I prefer not to look at them.”

“What do you mean?”

Lister shifted her gaze from Ann to anywhere but. “The age and size of the universe is… astronomical, for lack of better word.” She chuckled before failing to maintain the air of nonchalance. “Compared to that, our lives, our individual lives, are incredibly, pathetically short. And then--” But she stopped, met Ann’s eyes, and forced out a laugh. “Oh, Lord. What is this philosophical talk, right? Forget it. It’s fatigue. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“But I love it,” Ann said hastily and offered a smile. “I love discovering how you see things.”

So, in spite of her apprehension, Lister opened her mouth. “Well, what I was going to say was that, our lives are short, and what we experience on a daily basis happens in an even shorter span of time… It’s almost as if we swing from one emotion to another over a single grain of sand.” 

She couldn’t look at Ann for some moments. But when she mustered courage and turned her head, Ann was staring into space. She blinked as those words sank in. And her lips parted as if she wanted to say something. The familiar shadow of uncertainty crept across her face.

Lister looked into her eyes. “Go on. What is it?” 

“Well, I just-- They are significant, though, while they happen. Just because it’s a fleeting moment, it doesn’t mean the emotion you feel is unimportant or unreal. When you have a sad dream or watch a happy movie, those feelings are real, aren’t they?”

Lister repeated her words in her mind, turned them over, and examined again. And she smiled at the weight of them. “Yes, that’s actually a nice point. Excellent, good thinking.” It wasn’t everyday that words alone could overturn her perspective.

_ Not just a pretty face _. But she didn’t say it, not sure how Ann would take it.

"So, can we conclude that life is wonderful despite, as well as by virtue of, its ephemeralness?" Lister said.

Ann nodded. "With you, yes."

Forget about slowing down time. Lister wanted to stop it, to forever live in this moment. 

She wanted to take Ann’s hand, but she reined in the urge. Even with the light traffic of people around them, PDA might not still be Ann’s cup of tea. 

But then, those blue eyes flickered down to her hand and returned to her eyes, her pinky finger placed on the bench slowly wiggling closer to Lister’s hand. Their pinkies touched first, then the ring fingers, and at last, all fingers interlaced.

They giggled together, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Ann took her smartphone out of her pocket and fiddled with it. “Do you want to take a selfie with me? Our first walk together.”

“A selfie? No--” Lister smirked at the clear disappointment on Ann’s face. “I demand more than one.”

So, as Ann switched the camera to the selfie mode and put the phone up in front of their faces, Lister wrapped her arm around her waist. At the first one, she looked into the camera. At the second one, however, her focus had already shifted to Ann’s shoulder and neck, pressing her lips against the skin slightly salty with sweat. More shutter sounds. Ann giggled. They found each other’s lips, and Ann twisted her upper body for more firm kisses. 

“People are watching,” Ann said against her lips.

“Let them.” 

But Ann, with a lip-biting smile, pulled away. “But I don’t want them to.”

_ Oh-- _

“I don’t want anybody to see… you looking at me like that.” Ann looked down at their connected hands. “Is that weird? Do I sound possessive?”

How Lister longed to just pull her back into her arms and kiss her. But she kept her impulse in check, squeezing her hand instead. “It’s not. You don’t.”

After a little while, they rose to their feet and began walking at last, hands still connected. Ann proposed that Lister drop by her place for breakfast. Although Lister usually didn’t eat in the morning, she agreed. There wasn’t much time for the world news, as it turned out, but it was dealt with in the office. 

…

Lister stood before one of Ann’s paintings in her office, while munching on the chicken sandwiches Ann had packed for her. She had spent the last five hours staring at numbers and words. Now, the shadows of them still danced in front of her eyes. It took some bites and gulps of water for all the visual remnants to fade away, and by the time she’d picked up the next sandwich, the dark colours on the canvas were all which was in her vision. 

The painting could be reminiscent of the night sky, if seen by a trained eye perhaps. Lister wanted to say with pride, now knowing what to expect to see, that it posed no challenge to discern it. But no matter how close or far or which angle she looked at it from, the painting still looked the same. Splattered paints. 

When all three of the sandwiches had gone--so mysteriously-- Lister called Eugénie in. They stood side by side. And according to her, the theme of the night sky was indeed recognisable. 

“But whether it can remind you of the night sky isn’t the important part,” Eugénie said. “What matters is the emotion that it evokes. How do you feel looking at it?”

“You like abstract art?” 

“I minored in art history back in uni.”

“Huh, never knew that.”

Eugénie shifted her attention back to the painting. “This is Miss Walker’s, is it not, ma’am?”

Lister’s lips curled into a smile as she gave a nonchalant nod.

“She’s very nice, ma’am. She gives me cookies whenever she visits here.”

Lister laughed. “That’s so her.”

“I’m very happy for you, ma’am. You’ve become--” But she shut her mouth when their eyes met, looking like a doe in the headlights. 

Lister raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well--”

“What?”

“--Healthy. You’ve become healthier since Miss Walker came along, ma’am. I’m very happy for that.”

Why did this girl got to be so awkward? Granted, they never talked about stuff beyond the realm of work, and Lister supposed that was the source of this awkward air. She couldn’t care less.

“Alright, back to work now.” Lister waved her off.

Alone in the office again, she stared at the painting some more. What emotion did it evoke in her? Confusion, frustration, and also a bit of disappointment if she was honest. It wasn’t how Ann had wanted her to feel, was it?

She thought about what she’d said about the shortness of human life. Part of her still regretted the decision to open up like that. It made her look vulnerable. Basically giving Ann a knife, pointing at her own chest, and screaming _T__his is where my heart is_. But Ann was different, the other part of her knew. If given a knife, she would simply give it back to the other person and expose her chest in the same manner. 

“We could be vulnerable together,” she might say.

She was so different, from Mariana, from Lister herself, from anyone Lister knew. It almost seemed like the fear of getting hurt didn’t bother her, like the consequences of displaying vulnerability never frightened her.

That was it. Ann Walker was naive--

A phone call came through, then. Her train of thought was interrupted as well as her lunch break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any kind of comments are appreciated :) This fic is driving me nuts in a way because Lister is a dumb of ass who neither has the skills nor the time to examine her feelings! Your encouragement helps greatly ;)


	9. A badge of honour, I'd say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the exhibit scene again. New stuff in there, and the original stuff that I've left in it has different meaning now that their relationship has progressed :) yay!

Lister spent every morning with Ann in the following days. On non-rainy mornings, Ann would come to walk with her in the park, and when it rained, she would wait at home with nice breakfast ready on the table. 

In the beginning, Lister tried to engage in casual conversation at breakfast time and chow down the hearty meal. But it soon became obvious that it was too much of a hassle for both parties. Ann didn’t always look awake enough for a conversation--she always looked impeccable, though--and Lister needed the precious morning time to catch up with the news. Having more than coffee in her stomach made her head fuzzy, too.

So, their morning together grew less chatty, less filling. Just spending time in the same place. Lister would sip her coffee and read the news online, while Ann nibbled on toast and prepared lunch for Lister. Sometimes Lister would steal a glance at her, and would often find Ann’s gaze already trained on her. They would exchange a smile, then go back into their little silences for two hours. They settled into this routine with such ease, as if this had been their life for years, that it perplexed Lister when she took a step back to contemplate it. 

The first day of September, however, the peace was disturbed by something. Ann seemed agitated, bouncing her knees up and down, picking at the skin of her bottom lip. Toast on her plate was left un-nibbled on.

Lister put her tablet down on the table. “Are you alright?”

Ann gave a lame nod. “It’s the opening day of the exhibit. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Ah. Yes, the exhibit. There’s nothing to worry about, I’m certain.”

“What if people don’t like my work? They might take one look and decide it’s so beneath them--”

“You need to stop belittling yourself like that, Ann.” Lister rose to her feet, stepped to the other side of the table, and knelt down before her, taking her hands. “Yes, everybody has different taste. Some might not appreciate your work as much you hope them to, but it doesn’t say anything about you as an artist, and certainly not as a person.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

Mild surprise turned into a smile. “We already established that I do like your art, didn’t we?”

“But, my new piece, you haven’t seen it.”

“No, I haven’t, because you refuse to show it to me.” Lister chuckled. “But I’m certain I will like it. And no matter what other people might say, it never changes the fact that I’m proud of you. Here, come--” 

She made both of them stand up and led Ann to the living room. They lay there in the couch together with Ann’s head on her chest. They remained like that until Lister had to go to work.

…

The September exhibit opening began at ten. Lister strode through the hallways of the third floor and scanned the gallery, filled with audience and art pieces on display. Patrons of the gallery, regular art enthusiasts, family and friends of the artists, and critics. Reporters were also there, as they should, talking to the critics and taking photographs. And in the middle of the space, Lister found Ann seated on the leather bench, her eyes already on her. 

After a few steps forward, however, an Asian man came up to her with an ear-to-ear grin. Yashith, the other one of the two guest artists. He introduced himself and his mother, who had flown all the way from Cambodia. 

“Thank you, Miss Lister,” he said. “for paying for her flight tickets. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

“Of course. A special occasion like this must be celebrated with your loved ones.” Lister then offered his mother a handshake. “I’m very delighted you could make it, ma’am.”

The mother, instead of taking the hand, enveloped Lister in a bear hug. She was a petite woman, only two thirds of Lister in height, but still strong. She said something in a foreign language, let Lister go, and exchanged several words with her son. 

The artist shot Lister a stiff smile. “Sorry, ma’am. My mother doesn’t speak English.”

They spoke more in their language. Yashith seemed to grow frustrated by the second. And on the mother’s face, Lister could detect confusion as she studied Lister from head to toe before addressing to her son again. It was easy to take a guess-- The mother had thought Lister was a man, and got muddled upon discovering otherwise. It wouldn’t offend Lister if it was really the case. Her slicked-back short hair and her attire did make her look androgynous. 

“I apologise,” Yashith said with embarrassment written all over his face. “My mother says you’re very beautiful, ma’am.”

Lister smiled at them both. “Hmm. Tell her I said thank you, and you and your mother enjoy this special day. Now, excuse me.” 

Stepping aside, she only had Ann in her sights. But some familiar faces came forward to greet her, trying to engage in a chit-chat, and slowed her down every time. Ann waited on the bench, unfazed, riveting her eyes with a tiny smile gracing her features.

When Lister finally reached the centre of the room, Ann stood up. But with a couple of metres left between them, Lister halted and ran her eyes over Ann, dressed in a chic dress and high heels Lister had bought her for this occasion. The modestly low neckline of the dress accentuated her collarbones, the intricate straps of the high heels hugging her feet and ankles.

Although Lister could spend hours admiring the beauty, she remembered what Ann had said-- She didn’t want Lister looking at her like _ that _in public.

What a shame.

With a smirk, she closed the gap between them. "I don’t know who your stylist is, Miss Walker, but may I say her taste is utterly exquisite?"

Ann returned her smile, but said nothing. The look of disquiet was more evident than this morning as she fidgeted. 

Lister rested a gentle hand on her arm. “Did you have a rest after I left?”

“A bit, I think. I don’t know. I’m so shaky I’m scared I might pass out.”

“Hmm. Well, in the event of that, I shall carry you in bridal style. That’ll cause quite a sensation.” Lister let out a chuckle, but when her humour helped Ann so little, she presented a more serious expression. “But if you truly begin to feel ill, promise you’ll tell me, okay? No worrying about the exhibition or other people, alright?”

Ann nodded, struggling to offer a smile.

After another reassuring squeeze on Ann’s arm, Lister looked around the gallery. “All looks nice. People seem to like your work, don’t you think?”

Ann regarded her surroundings as if everyone was there to undermine her. “Of course, they don’t say anything negative. They know the artists are here, too.”

“Ann--”

“And this is the thing. Even if they like it, the idea of being seen, being associated with my art, always unnerves me.”

“Being seen?”

“I can’t explain it. Just-- The fact that people look at my work and me, and make a connection… Them knowing that my art came out of my brain is… I don’t know.”

Lister had no idea what the heck she was talking about. Why wouldn't she want to take credit for her accomplishment? It got Lister wondering, for a fleeting moment, how on earth this could be the same person as the one who had talked about the beauty of life as a human being. 

Still, she slipped her hand into Ann’s in a gentle manner and looked into her face. “Come with me.” 

They snaked their way through the audience, out of the gallery, and walked into the lavatory. Lister pulled her into one of the stalls and, once the door was locked, into her arms. Ann’s body grew less tense, then, her cheek on Lister’s shoulder.

“We could stay here until you feel better, alright?" Lister said.

Ann gave a subtle nod of her head. 

It was quiet, away from the voices and footsteps of the people outside. The repose was artificial, opposite of the serenity the park in the morning could offer, but it'd have to do. 

Ann clung to her more tightly. "Ms. Hussein said that I would have to take questions from the reporters."

"Yes, that’s what guest artists do."

"What kind of questions are they going to ask?"

"Usual stuff. How it feels to be invited to be a guest artist, your artistic background, what messages your work has… Things like that.”

Ann sighed against her neck. "Can you stand with me when I talk to them?"

"Well--"

"No, I'm sorry. I sound like such a pathetic child." With a deep furrow of her brow, Ann pulled away from the embrace.

Lister caressed her cheeks. “You do not sound like a child. What I was going to say was that if I stand with you, they will ask about us, our relationship. Then, it’s going to be in magazines and online articles. It won’t be just an obscure Instagram post--” 

“I don’t care,” Ann said. “I don’t care about other people. I want you to be with me.”

Watching the resolution in her eyes, Lister felt a smile creep across her lips. “Alright, then.” She pulled Ann back in for an unhurried kiss.

Ann kept her eyes closed some time afterwards. She smiled. A sigh of bliss fell from her lips. But when her eyes opened, a grimace returned yet again. “Oh, good Lord.” Her hand flew up to pat on Lister’s jacket where she’d had her cheek rested. “I got my foundation on your jacket.”

“Hmm?” Lister twisted her neck sideways, pulling at the shoulder of her jacket. Indeed, there was a tiny, indiscernible patch of beige on the black surface, just near the lapel.

In a hurry, Ann opened the stall door and went to the sinks. She got a paper towel from the dispenser, dampened it, and when Lister stood next to her, dabbed the stain off. Lister observed Ann’s profile in the mirror. 

“I’m so sorry,” Ann said. “I can’t believe I got my cheap makeup on your clothes.”

“It’s not as bad as you think. A badge of honour, I’d say.”

“You have to stand in front of the cameras after this. But no, of course, I had to ruin it before it even began.” Ann grabbed another paper towel and patted the damp spot dry. 

“Don’t.” Lister took her hand with the paper towel in it. “I'd rather have your foundation on my jacket than your tears. Look at me, Ann-- I know it sounds banal, but I do mean that. So, please, none of that. Alright?”

Ann didn’t say anything for a while. But her cheeks had a touch of red, and the beginning of a smile was creeping across her lips. She ran her thumb over the now clean spot. “Can you come to my place tonight?”

Before Lister could respond, two people entered the lavatory whilst loudly arguing. Something about pubic hair and dry skin. Brilliant. The discussion continued over the partition as they entered different stalls, somehow evolving into an in-depth theological discussion. So, Lister planted a kiss on Ann’s forehead and led her out of the place. They walked back to the gallery.

“I wish I could,” Lister said. “I have a social network do thing that’s extremely important. Lots of investors will be there. And what with the Northwich problem, some scumbags must be thinking I’m done for. I need to make an appearance to show them otherwise.”

“Okay.”

“I will make it up to you. Name your price.” Lister turned around.

They had arrived back at the gallery, but this time, the presence of the crowd didn’t seem to bother Ann in the slightest. Her eyes were only set on Lister. “I don’t need to. I already have what I want.”

Lister failed to conceal her grin. Damn her reputation as a bullheaded tycoon.

So, perhaps it was a good thing that Hussein interrupted their little telepathic moment. They needed the artists and Lister for photographs and interviews.

They did that, then. Bathed in camera flashes, Lister stood between the two artists. Without realizing, her hand found Ann’s. Their fingers remained laced until the last flash, hidden behind Ann’s back. 

Then, the reporters isolated Yasith for questions. Lister and Ann had some time alone again, so they walked around the gallery, looking at the exhibits. All of Ann’s pieces seemed to be related to rubbish. A non-bin bin that was different from the one in Lister’s office, some enigmatic sculptures made of plastic bags and bottles, and more sculptures of tangled-up earphones and metallic chains. They stopped in front of a piece that, as far as Lister could see, didn’t quite exude the same energy as the rest of her creation.

“Hmm. Is this the new piece you’ve been keeping a secret from me?” Lister said.

Ann nodded.

It was a sculpture the size of a human head. The exterior was made of barbed wire painted black, shaped into an indiscernible figure with hollow space. Through the shell, they could see wads of pastel-coloured cotton on the inside, a thin thread of it poking out in one place as if it was escaping--or being pulled out of--the confinement. _ Earthling _, the title said. Now that it was pointed out, perhaps Lister could make out the vague shape of a human head.

"What does this symbolise?" Lister said in a gentle voice.

Ann met her eyes and blushed, but shook her head. "Nothing. It's… abstract, you know."

Lister examined the piece again. “This is good. I told you I’d love it.” 

Shortly after, the reporters let go of Yashith and clustered around Ann. Lister stayed by her side, though maintaining a professional distance. The questions turned out to be just as Lister had told her, pertaining to her work and background. However, it didn’t last long. Taking advantage of Lister’s presence, the reporters began to steer their attention away from Ann. 

“Miss Lister, you’ve previously expressed your indifference to abstraction. What’s so special about Miss Walker’s work that changed your mind?”

Despite being unprepared, Lister did not stutter. “Well, I think her pieces speak of quiet passion, like blue flames, like a grand mountain. They are embodiments of sensitivity and gentle strength, and Miss Walker does not shy away from embracing her own vulnerability through her work--” Lister stopped to smiled at Ann. “At least, that is my interpretation. I don’t know if Miss Walker agrees.”

Ann shot a soft smile. 

“Which is your favorite piece of Miss Walker?”

“The Earthling. Hands down.” 

“Miss Lister, you and Miss Walker were seen together at London Pride back in July,” a familiar face from a lesbian magazine said. “Would you care to share with us how long you two been going out together? Does this mean the relationship is getting serious?” 

Expected, but still an itchy question. They looked at each other. While Ann’s reaction was to go beetroot red, Lister’s was to bellow with throwing-her-head-back laughter.

“That is a question,” Lister said. “We haven’t discussed anything of the sort yet. But that’s my wish, yes.” She tried to meet Ann’s gaze, but with no success. “It’s not to say, however, that is why Miss Walker is here today. I hope her wonderful work speaks for itself.”

Some more questions were thrown in. Whether Lister would consider inviting more abstract artists in the future (Definitely a possibility), how and when they had met (Some months ago at an art gallery, over which Ann snickered beside her), what Lister had to say to the critics saying she wasn’t doing enough for the LGBTQ+ community (Everyone's a critic), and so on. 

The grilling finally ended, and they were left alone again. 

“Anne,” Ann said in a whisper. “My old teacher is over there. Can we go say hi?” 

Looking in the direction Ann pointed, Lister’s eye was caught by a person of rather eccentric appearance seated in the leather bench. They walked over to the teacher, who Ann introduced as Mrs. Hutter. 

“But call me Captain Hook or Mad-Eye if you please. That’s what my students call me.” She winked her eye that was not hidden behind her eye patch. She had a very thick Irish accent.

Lister shook her hand. “Oh, I see some of your students might lack originality, I'm afraid.”

“That’s what I tell them.” Mrs. Hutter gave a short bark of laughter. She looked at Ann. “How are you, Adney? You look gorgeous.”

“I’m well.”

“Adney?” Lister said.

“Oh, that’s what I call her.” Mrs. Hutter gestured to Ann with a wave of her hand. “How did that happen? I could never seem to remember.”

Ann smiled first at her old teacher and then at Lister. “We had three Anns in her sculpture class. Annie, Aneta, and me. So, to avoid confusion, she gave me that nickname.”

“Yes, exactly. The good ol’ days.” Mrs. Hutter slightly bent her head forward with an impish smile. "Between you and me, though, Miss Lister, it was actually my wife that came up with the nickname when I was complaining about how confusing it was."

"Your wife has good taste," Lister said.

"I'll make sure to tell her that."

“So, what do you think, Captain?” Ann said, waving her hand to their surroundings.

Mrs. Hutter looked around, hands in her trouser pockets. “Very impressive, not going to lie. You’ve certainly evolved since I last saw you. When was that? Only two months ago, when you borrowed a spot at Mr. Khan’s gallery?”

“Ah, Mr. Khan’s gallery,” Lister said. “I’ve been there as well. That’s where I first discovered the sheer talent of Miss Walker.” She threw Ann a quick wink.

“Really? Well, imagine that!” Mrs. Hutter seemed disproportionately pleased, then gave Ann pats on the shoulder. “Told you a small step like that was important. You never know where it can lead you. But--” She nodded to Lister in a suggestive manner. “Miss Lister, huh? It’s like boarding a ship and discovering the treasure island the very next day.”

Puzzled, Lister tilted her head to Ann, whose cheeks were all but flushed.

Ann shook her head. “Nothing--”

“It’s not nothing,” Mrs. Hutter said. “Far from nothing. Little Adney here has always been pining after you. Gay thirst, as the kids say these days. The only things she ever talked about were art, food, and you."

“Look, Captain, isn’t that critic your friend? You should introduce him to me!” Ann was crimson red to the tips of her ears as she made a desperate attempt to turn her old teacher around.

Lister, in a mirthful mood, watched the two of them make their way to a boring-looking man. Ann’s head turned, then, to cast Lister a bashful smile. 

Throughout the day, Lister ran through that smile in her head over and over again.

The nickname Adney stuck to her since then. Lister didn’t know why. It just felt like catching a glimpse of Ann’s life, the important part of her past that Lister hadn’t had the time to explore.

…

The following few days were rainy in the morning. Lister did early-morning workout in the swimming pool at her own place for an hour and drove over to Ann’s for breakfast. On one of these mornings, Ann came to swim with her. Lister revealed her swimsuit, and in return, enjoyed the frilly bikini on Ann. 

An hour later, they sat at the dining table with wet hair and had breakfast. Sipping her coffee, Lister checked for the usual financial and international news as well as articles on the exhibit opening. The critics praised Yasith to the skies, one of them even referring to him as Asian Claude Monet. In regard to Ann, however, there wasn’t a lot of comments. 

_ Most of her work feels as if it owns the artist, and not the other way around. It feels unfinished. Something is missing. Her latest piece, Earthling, possesses passion, but it almost feels like sex that doesn’t let you-- _

Who the fuck was this critic? Lister skimmed through the article. Thomas Hinscliff. What a whore. She copied the name and pasted it in the search engine. The plain white face that appeared in the results didn’t look familiar. Whoever this critic was, however, Lister would have no trouble locating him with a snap of a finger if she wished. But she wouldn’t. He was too beneath her or Ann to deal with.

Lister set down her tablet. “Have you read any of the reviews of the exhibition?”

With a grimace, Ann shook her head. “I know I should read them, but every time I try to, I get a stomachache.”

“Well, let me summarise them for you, then, so you wouldn’t have to. They love it. Especially the Earthling one. They just use big words to sound more pedantic than this, but their point is that they love it. You've done a very good job.”

Ann offered a smile. “Some people have contacted me for commissions. They wanted something like that one.” Whether or not she bought the lie remained unclear to Lister.

“People with exquisite tastes. Did they offer you decent prices?”

Ann gave a nonchalant half-nod-half-shrug. 

“No, seriously, Ann. Did they? You can’t let them walk all over you.”

“They can haggle a bit,” Ann said, in a rather weak tone.

Lister wasn’t so familiar with the business aspect of the art industry, the dos and dont’s of deals, because she always paid full prices without a second thought. “Well, then, I trust you know more than I do. But when you need my help in any way, scaring off an annoying client or legal issues--”

“I will let you know.” A small smile was gracing Ann’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think and enjoyed! :)


	10. I won’t give you a piggyback ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One pinch of fluff and a whole lot of clownery

Regardless of public opinion, Lister didn’t regret giving Ann this opportunity of this exhibition. But if there was one thing she could’ve done differently, it was her decision to stand with Ann for the interviews. It might have been a bad judgment. It had repercussions, and not the way Lister had expected.

Booth sat on the other side from Lister in the office, staring at his tablet for their weekly marketing and PR meeting. They talked about the usual stuff. The pricing and advertising strategies and their outcomes, the progress of negotiations with other agencies, digital marketing, and more. But the agenda of the day turned out to have one more extra bullet point.

Booth kept looking down at his connected hands on his knees, as he tended to do before an uncomfortable topic. “So, this Miss Walker,” he said. “You were interviewed together at the exhibition opening.”

“Yes?”

“You confirmed a romantic relationship with her.”

“Indeed.” 

Instead of daring to look up, he continued to squirm in his seat. “There are some comments on social media.”

“Mhmm.” 

Lister threw a blatant glance at her wrist watch. Booth held the staggering record of four minutes and a half for beating around the bush. As busy as she was, she felt tempted to find out if he could set a new record here. Ann would be honoured. 

“Here’s the thing, Miss Lister,” he said. “You told me before that she shouldn’t be a reason for concern.”

In retrospect, it was also Lister’s personal affair that had created the record.

“But she’s… I’m not sure how to put it—”

“Out with it, Booth. What is it about Miss Walker that you don’t like, hmm?”

“I’m not saying— It’s not personal.” He took a deep breath before taking the plunge. “She’s related to the Rawsons. A niece of the chairwoman, Edith Rawson. It’s not public knowledge, but not a secret, either. Lord knows how the Rawsons are going to react when they find out about this affair.” 

Lister didn’t respond right away. Her heart, however, beat slightly faster, clearing her head. “Did you run a background check on her?” 

“Had to stay vigilant, ma’am.”

She glared at him. “Then, you should’ve come to me and asked directly. You wouldn't have had to snoop around like she’s a bloody criminal.”

“We never think— You knew about this?”

Cross-legged, Lister kept her head up. “Yes? So? Does that somehow contravene a law that I date someone who happens to be from our rival family? What is this, a Shakespearean play?”

“But, Miss Lister—” 

“I’m certain we’ve covered everything we needed to discuss today.” She stood up and returned to her desk chair. “Good day, Booth.”

In the corner of her eye, she watched his stout body rise from the couch and wend his way out of the office. The door closed. Instead of going back to work, however, Lister navigated through Twitter, looking for the so-called comments about Ann that Booth had mentioned. 

#AnnWalker #ShibdenGallery #AnneLister

The results displayed thread after thread of photographs of her and Ann. Not just the ones taken at the gallery. In the park, on the street, at the supermarket. These were photographs taken from a distance and without their knowledge. Then, there were tweets, mainly of her fangirls either raving about their relationship or lamenting over it. But one of the outstanding threads, posted by someone called WormWanker69, went a little further and presented conspiracy theory.

_ ‘The relationship between Lister and Walker is not authentic. It’s a ploy to make Shibden Group an even more powerful entity. A thread.’ _

And they provided evidence in the following tweets to support their claim. One piece of evidence was,  _ ‘Lister mainly courts older, married women. Often brunette. Walker looks too young and blonde to be her type.’ _

“Oh, fuck off,” Lister said out loud.

But other than that, they made quite a convincing argument, including the backdrop of the rivalry between Shibden and the Rawson’s, and the ongoing probe on Northwich. Lister didn’t need to finish the thread. This was written by someone who had done the homework. Presumptuous in part, but accurate where it counted. 

Lister swivelled her chair around and looked out the window behind the desk. 

The scheme, she thought. It had slipped out of her mind. How stupid of her, losing sight of an objective like that. She couldn’t decide whether to thank or curse social media for reminding her.

Either way, Lister had to admit, she had failed to take into account the public eye when she contrived the plot. Ann and the Rawsons, they were all Lister had thought she would need to deceive. But the cat was out of the bag— Well, not out yet, but the public had proven to be an element not to be underestimated.

How much had the Rawson’s team smelled it out? Those tweets mentioned their firm along with Shibden. It’d be a fair assessment to think they were, at least, aware of their relationship now. Whether or not to delve into the conspiracy theory would be up to Christopher Rawson and his family. 

Would they warn Ann of this? Hard to say. Ann’s attitude towards her relatives was dismissive, almost cynical. It was unlikely for them to interfere with a regular relationship, and Ann would never listen to them in the first place. When Lister was involved, though, it was a different conversation. Regardless of the nature of their relationship, her relatives would see Lister as a threat and would attempt to sabotage it.

Was Ann even out to her family? There were so many uncertain factors to consider.

But, so what? What could ever happen if Ann found out? What with the issues of Northwich, the Rawson’s assets would be more valuable than ever, that much was true. But her affection towards Ann was genuine. It wasn’t like her scheme was to rob Ann of her fortune and run away with someone else. 

No. They could get married and live happily together. Surely, that was what Ann’s heart desired. And if the marriage was happy, Lister subverting the Rawson’s as a side quest wouldn’t affect her a bit. Surely.

…

For precautionary purposes, though, Lister cancelled her plans for the following nights to spend time with Ann, to look out for any notable change in her behaviour. She texted extra much and talked longer on the phone during the lunch break. But nothing seemed out of the way. Not a mention of her cousins. Not a single fleeting grimace. Just the same infatuated, caring, horny Ann that she had come to know and enjoy the company of. 

Then, one night, she had a scare.

Something interrupted her slumber, and with her eyes still closed, she searched the other side of the bed with a hand. Only the chill of the bedding greeted her. It rushed through her veins the moment her dazed mind cognized the emptiness. She sat up, the blankets sliding off her shoulders, pooling around her waist. 

The room was dimly lit, but she saw Ann nowhere.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” a voice came from behind Lister.

At the bedside table, Ann was perched on a chair, knees-to-chest with a large square object on her lap. 

Lister lay back down. “What’s keeping you awake?"

Ann shrugged. “Thinking, about some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“I don’t want you to worry. Go back to sleep.”

Despite the soft tone of her voice, it set an alarm off in some corner of Lister’s mind. But she couldn’t think. “What’s that?” she said, too drowsy to point at the object on Ann’s lap.

“My sketchbook.”

Lister patted the empty side next to her. "Come back here. Keep me warm."

Ann rolled back in and sat upright. And Lister snuggled against her, resting her head on Ann's lap. She stroked Ann’s leg and knee, saw the sketchbook placed on the other side of Ann’s hips, and lightly flicked her fingers at it.

"Show me?"

Ann gave her the book.

Drowsiness continued to cling to Lister. The page lit by the dim light of the lamp looked blank at first. Her eyes gradually adjusted, and finally Lister could discern the delicate pencil line work.

"Oh. These are..." Lister sought the right word. 

Ann pulled the sketchbook away. "Not good. I know."

Sitting up, Lister wrapped her arms around Ann. "They’re brilliant, Ann. Those are me, aren’t they?" 

Ann nodded.

Lister ran her fingers over the drawings of her sleeping. When she fiddled with the corner of the page, though, Ann’s hand came to hold hers, keeping her from turning to the next page.

“This is all,” Ann said. Her skin grew warm against Lister’s.

She smirked. “Nude? You know I wouldn’t mind it.”

"I really don't want you to see." Ann stared at her with pleading eyes.

So, Lister wasn’t the only one with a secret or two. Giving a gentle nod, she removed her hand from the sketchbook, kissed her on the neck, and gestured to the drawings. "They are really good. I had no idea— I mean, I knew you were talented, but I've only seen your abstract work…”

"We all learn the basics first."

"Hmm. I have an idea. Why don’t you paint me? A commission."

But Ann only gave a poor attempt at a smile. “You don’t want that. It’s worthless.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you sad.” Lister tucked a strand of Ann’s hair behind her ear. “Does this have anything to do with what you’ve drawn in there?” 

Ann placed her hands over the page in a shielding gesture, but shook her head. “I can’t be your burden.”

“You won’t be.” Lister tilted her head up with a hand under her chin. “I won’t… give you a piggyback ride, as the Americans say. We just carry the weight together.” 

It was a line of persuasion she had employed once when negotiating an acquisition with an American company. To them, it was either that or bankruptcy. Lister couldn’t believe this line popped into her mind now.

But it worked, just like before.

“It’s about the exhibit,” Ann said in a whisper. “They didn’t like my art. I read the criticism.”

Those words sank in slowly. “Some did.”

“But people that matter didn’t. Critics, you said they were the only ones that mattered.”

“No, I— I didn’t say that, did I? I said they were important, but—” Lister pushed herself off the mattress and sat in front of Ann, face to face. She sighed. “I lied about the reviews. I shouldn’t have.”

“Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“I knew you could easily find out if you wanted to."

"You did to protect my feelings." Ann offered a soft smile. "Let's drop it. It’s fine. I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Come on, you need sleep."

Thoughts kept churning around in Lister's mind. But then, Ann pulled at her arm, prompting them to lie down, and enveloped her in a hug once their heads sank back into the pillows. She smoothed Lister’s hair and kissed her on the lips.

“We'll be fine in the morning,” Ann said.

Letting her eyes close, Lister smiled. “Look at us. I was supposed to be comforting you, but now it’s the other way around. How did that happen?”

Ann hummed. ‘Thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“You’re right. It’s not the end of the world. I have you, and you like my work. That should be enough.”

As the haze of sleep slowly reclaimed Lister, those words echoed in her head. And she thought to herself, how worthless it had been to fret over the Rawson’s issues. No word other people could whisper in Ann’s ear, regardless of the truth value, could ever change her view on Lister. She only listened to Lister. Her words were Ann’s truth and reality.

Everything was in good order. Booth was worrying himself to baldness for no reason. Nothing could ever separate them now.

…

Argus pulled at his lead on their way to Hyde Park, and Lister reprimanded him for the umpteenth time that morning. Although it was an unfamiliar course for him, he seemed to know where they were headed. His favorite place on earth. He wagged his fluffy tail and tried to greet every passerby. As they neared the park entrance close to Ann’s house, his excitement skyrocketed. 

Ann was already standing by a red phone box. Argus dragged Lister down the street and sniffed at Ann’s hands good morning. His wagging tail whipped Lister in the shin as Ann crouched down to run her fingers through his grey coat.

They took their usual route, going north to Memorial Playground and heading east to Italian Garden, and then decided that they felt like walking around Kensington Gardens today instead of going beyond the Serpentine. Despite the obvious impatience of Argus, Lister kept their pace relatively languid.

“Can I walk him?” Ann said.

So, Lister handed the leash over. “I can’t stay long. I’ve got to fly to Edinburgh for a business conference.”

To Lister’s surprise, Ann perked up. “Oh, my sister lives in Edinburgh. Elizabeth. She’s a human rights lawyer. Have I told you that?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“She’s in Italy now, being part of the immigrant crisis.” For a moment, Ann fiddled with the leash. “I talked to her a couple of days ago, about you.”

“Did you? All good, I hope?”

Giggles fell from her lips. “I could never say anything negative about you, you know that. Anyway, she’d like to meet you, maybe at Christmas or on New Year’s, when I go see her back in Edinburgh— I mean, if you’d like to.” 

Lister nodded. “That would be my honour. I’ve got to go home as well, though, in Halifax. Christmas family stuff. My aunt will be devastated if I don’t. Would you like to come with me? You don’t have to talk to my father. He’s a grubby little wretch. But you may find my aunt tolerable, and of course, there’d be Marian.”

“I’d like that.”

“And then, we could go to Edinburgh to see your sister afterwards.”

There came another dog walker, a black man with a labrador, from the opposite direction. Argus exchanged courteous buttock sniffling with his fellow dog. Meanwhile, the black man engaged in a small chit-chat with Ann. What a nice weather. Is he your dog. I haven’t seen you and him around, blah blah blah.

Lister observed him from outside his field of vision. Something about his features reminded her of a certain potty eggplant of a human being, which felt odd given that they were not the same race. No, the eggplant man was as white as he could be. Perhaps, it was the patronizing way this black man smiled at Ann, with the knot between his well-groomed brows, his teeth bleach-white. 

Ann must have said something, because the man’s attention shifted to Lister for a brief moment. Long enough, anyhow, for their eyes to lock. His demeanor turned more reserved in an instant, and waving at Argus, he and his dog walked away from them.

Argus tugged at his leash, so they resumed their walk as well.

“You were glaring at him,” Ann said.

“Hmm?”

“You intimidated him.” Her voice lacked an accusatory tone. “He was just talking to his fellow dog owner, you know.”

Lister turned her head around to glance at the retreating back of the black man, and looked back at Ann. And as the implication dawned on her, she sniggered. “You think I glared at him because I thought he was flirting with you?”

“Well—”

“ _ Adney _ , you are very pretty, and yes, he was flirting. But do you truly suppose I’m the jealous type?”

Smiling, Ann shrugged her shoulders. “There are many sides of you I haven’t seen.”

“Hmm. No, it’s easier to move a literal mountain than to make me jealous. I was thinking he looked like Ainsworth, which now reminds me—” Lister rolled her eyes. “I have this business trip to America planned in November. I’ve got to actually talk to that man face to face, and take care of other stuff. Have you been to the States?”

“Only once, when I was a child. Are you going to sack him?”

“That’s not the plan yet, but who knows?”

Ann’s brows knitted as she looked down. “I hope you wouldn’t have to. I know he’s not entirely a good person, but— I don’t know. It’ll ruin his life. It always gives me a stomachache to think about things like that.”

“He might’ve as well ruined it himself.”

“Well, still.”

“Even though he might have ruined other people’s lives?”

Ann wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Forget it— How long will you be gone anyway?”

Lister felt baffled and a bit disconcerted by Ann’s perspective, but regained composure quickly. “A week or so if I don’t hang around. But I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Ann’s step faltered as she stared back with round eyes.

“Ainsworth’s in New York City,” Lister said, “but we could go to, for example, Los Angeles. I have a villa there and also in Florida. Or wherever you’d like, and you could keep me company while I show up at conferences and parties, too. A private jet, of course.” 

Ann frowned up her face, deep in thought. “I’d like to, but I don’t have that much money to travel—”

“Oh, really? That’s a shame.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm, yes, because I was definitely going to get you to pay for everything.” Lister made both of them stop and cupped her cheeks. “You never have to worry about money. As long as you are with me, I take care of everything else.”

Ann smiled, but that turned into a grimace again a moment later. “I haven’t been outside the country for so long. I think my passport is expired. I don’t even know where it is now. Doesn’t it take more than a month to renew it?”

Lister began walking. “Perhaps. Well, we still have two months to go. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I have this friend who works at the Home Office, too. Let’s see if she could help, if we need it.” She tilted her head forward and looked into Ann’s face. “So, is that a yes? Say yes. No pressure, but pretty please?”

With a chuckle, Ann finally gave a nod. 

Lister looked around, wary of possible spectators, and when she saw none, she scooted herself closer to Ann. Their hands found each other. In the Kensington Garden area, they marched on, swinging their hands between them, until they saw people approaching. Even after their unabashed swinging of the hands had stopped, though, Ann kept a firm hold of Lister’s hand.

Ann looked up. “Oh— So, no breakfast this morning? I can cook it quickly so you could have a bite on your way to Heathrow.”

“Yes, please.”

“And lunch? Can I pack it for you?”

With an uncontrollable grin, Lister offered a nod. “The conference ends at five, but I don’t plan to stay that long. Probably would arrive back in London around three so I could stop by the office. But I have the evening free.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So, I could make up for this plenty.”

Ann let out her impish giggle that only less-than-decent thoughts could draw forth. “What do you want for dinner?" 

"Hmm. Curry."

“Curry?” Ann burst into laughter. "But you had it like two weeks ago."

"Listen—” Lister found herself giggling as well. "My body is craving that lassi, okay? The mixture of sourness and sweetness and spiciness is oddly addicting. Don't you think so?"

"I have to go grocery shopping. We are out of yogurt."

"Excellent. Oh, how about we eat out on the terrace? Well, perhaps not the curry, but we could have the lassi outside."

"On the terrace?" Ann shrugged. "Maybe. It's going to rain tonight, though."

Back at Ann’s place, Ann prepared breakfast and lunch with professional efficiency. By the time Lister had gotten out of the shower and come back downstairs in her suit, the food was all set and waiting in a lunch box bag. It looked new.

“Did you buy this bag?” Lister said.

Ann nodded. “There’s a thermos flask in the side pocket, too. I made hot coffee for you.”

With a wistful sigh, Lister caressed her cheek and gave a quick peck on the lips. “A goddess, truly.” 

They heard a car horn, then. And Argus, who had been snuggling up in the couch, started to bark as he dashed off to the door. Her lift was here. 

“Argus, hush. Sit.” Grabbing her briefcase and the lunch bag, Lister walked over to the door and gave the dog firm pats on his side. “Are you certain you’d be okay with him?” 

Ann nodded.

“Alright. My dog sitter comes to drop off his food and all around noon.” Lister kissed her, one hand resting on the door knob. “And it’d be wise not to let him in the studio.” A kiss on her cheek. “Or in the bedroom.” Another peck on the other cheek. “Or the bathroom.”

Ann chuckled and gently pushed her away. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine on our own, won’t we, buddy?” She bent down to boop the dog on the nose. 

So, Lister suggested Ann make the curry a bit less spicy this time for Ann’s sake, and she went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, this woman does an awful lot of rationalisation ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Ten tablespoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little domestic time!  
And more clownery ensues in the sphere of property investment business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut at the end

The breakfast was sandwiches in a beeswax wrap. As she ate in the car, Lister took care of emails as much as possible. 

Between bites and emails, though, her mind sometimes drifts back over their conversation earlier in the park. The promise to spend holidays with Ann’s family. It stirred up a strange mix of excitement and apprehension in Lister, which puzzled her even more. She knew that Elizabeth, the little she’d heard about her from Ann, would welcome her with open arms. No doubt Ann had gushed about Lister to her sister many times before. And they still had three months to go until the end of the year, too early to be preoccupied with something like this. Still, the foreign sensations refused to dissipate, whirling about in the corner of her heart.

Once she arrived in Edinburgh, however, there was no spare time for musing. 

The property investment conference had already started by the time she entered the venue. They had a whole floor to themselves. Each of the rooms had round tables and chairs set to accommodate about eighty people with enough personal space. At the front was a podium. Speakers sat on the left of it, opposite to the moderator, with a large projection screen in the middle. And there was another room, where the attendees could have a complimentary buffet lunch and coffee and expand their business network.

Stopping by this socialising room, Lister spent a good couple of hours catching up with old ‘friends’ and meeting new people. Then, before noon, she herself sat on the podium between two other speakers, and debated efficient and effective property investment strategies. 

The man on her right was a nobody in an Armani suit. On her left sat Mrs. Barlow, a widow in her fifties. One of Lister's genuine friends. Everytime Lister made a joke, the woman laughed harder than anyone in the room, leaning in towards Lister just a little to brush a hand against her arm. 

After about an hour, the debate was wrapped up with a round of applause. Lister stood up and walked behind Mrs. Barlow off the podium.

“I’m famished,” Mrs. Barlow said over her shoulder. “I didn’t have breakfast. I’m trying to lose weight.”

With a smirk, Lister let her eyes down over the woman. “You shouldn’t be. You know I admire your curves.”

“Flattering will get you everywhere, Anne.” 

“You can't blame me that I'm charming.”

“Well, then. Would you care to grab lunch with me?” She was already walking towards the door.

The socialising room had few seats left. As Mrs. Barlow made a tower of sandwiches on her plate, Lister sought seats for them both. By the window, there was a table with two seats occupied and the other two empty.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Lister said. “Are these seats taken?”

“No, Miss Lister. Please—” The man on the right, with a purple tie, gestured to the empty seats.

He and the other man with a striped tie introduced themselves, giving her their business cards. Their names, as soon as she put away the cards, slipped out of her mind.

“Your speech was excellent, Miss Lister, as always,” the man with a purple tie said.

Lister thanked him as she put down her lunch box bag on the table.

He continued, “I attended this conference for the first time four years ago. Every minute of it was educational, but it was your motto that inspired me to finally take the plunge into this business. Very simple advice, but I needed that."

"Ah, yes. Big picture, big goals, and—"

"—Big balls.” The purple man let out an exaggerated laugh, nudging his friend with his elbow. “Now I own two tenements in Glasgow. Planning for the third."

"Good for you." Lister raised her entire thermos in a toast. 

She unzipped the bag and saw a proper lunch box inside, brand-new like the bag and thermos. No scratch mark or dent on the black surface. The food itself, on the other hand, burst with colours. Ham salad, cheese, sausages, slices of apple and orange… More colours than Lister would ever think to have in her lunch if it was her decision to make.

Mrs. Barlow set down her plates and took a seat next to her. “Oh, what lovely lunch you have.”

“Did you not know they’d have food for us?” The striped-tie man threw her a teasing smile, which irritated Lister. 

“I come here every year,” she said, and turned to Mrs. Barlow. “My, um— My girlfriend cooks for me. She worries about my health.” 

It was her first time to call Ann her girlfriend, and Lister was aware of the awkwardness that permeated her heart. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It was simply the other half of doing something new. 

As they ate, the conversation revolved around the social stigma of real estate business. How the society at large viewed landlords as spawns of Satan, how their side of the story was always sneered at and brushed off, and on and on. 

"They don’t understand,” the purple man said. “They think all landlords become automatically filthy rich and exploitive the moment we earn the title, completely neglecting to consider the fact that it is us that have to cover the cost of anything if our tenant fails to pay."

“I sent my opinion to The Guardian a year ago,” the striped man said. “But the reviews were so hateful. I still get harassed on social media.”

"Yes, life is unfair,” Lister said, focused on her lunch. “Sometimes we have to sacrifice our dignity in order to put food on our table."

"One of my tenants recently threatened to sue me after I evicted her family,” the purple man said. “A mother of three. Problems with drugs. They had an ambulance parked in front of the house, at least, once a week. I had no other options. She got money for her drugs, but not a penny for the rent, not even for gas, water, or electricity. For six months.”

“Six months? That’s kind of you,” the striped man said.

"What were the social services doing about the kids?" Mrs. Barlow said.

“I have no idea, ma'am. Anyroad, the mother called me a social parasite, right in my face, when I finally got them an eviction notice.”

It sounded like they were still torn between their career choices and social standing. As long as they were engaging in such self-justification, they had a long way to go to be full-fledged entrepreneurs. But that was none of her business.

“But where did they go, then?” Mrs. Barlow's face twisted. “You didn’t just leave them on the street, did you?”

“Well, I warned the mother many times, ma’am,” the purple said. “I told her to clean up her act, otherwise her kids would end up having to sleep on the streets. She rejected any of my help.”

“So much for calling someone a parasite.” The striped man laughed.

“But even when we strive for profit,” Mrs. Barlow said, “we mustn’t forget that they are humans, too. Compassion is one of the crucial elements in any sort of business.”

“Yes, of course,” Lister said before shifting her attention back to the men. “But too much of it can often be detrimental, can give them the wrong idea that we could be cheated. Your case sounds exactly like that. I cannot say much without looking at the full context, but I think you’ve made the right choice by giving them a six-month extension.”

“Thank you, Miss Lister.” The purple dipped his head. “I knew that’s what you’d do, too.” 

Their attempt to leave an impressions on Lister was too obvious that it sickened her. Many people also came to Lister to greet and swap cards, interrupting her meal each time. It was starting to bore her to death. All she wanted was to enjoy her meal and engage in a more productive conversation with someone more intellectually capable than these Tweedledum and Tweedledee, like Mrs. Barlow, who seemed to be occupied at the moment.

With her phone in her hands, Mrs. Barlow had the knot between her brows. She would puff out her breath occasionally. When Lister’s inquisitive lift of a brow caught her eye, she softly waved her phone. “I’m sorry. It’s my new assistant.”

“What happened to the old one?”

“I had to make him redundant. He was good, but I caught him having sex with a girl from HR, in our storage.”

“Aw.”

Mrs. Barlow laughed through her nose. “Yes, aw indeed. I heard he’s been rescued by his relative that works for the Rawson’s. But goodness knows how long he’ll last there.”

At the mention of the Rawson’s, Lister stilled her hands and mouth. Their name these days couldn't be separated from the thought of Ann. But there was nothing to worry about, she told herself. She had already reconciled her internal conflict, and she was not doing that again. Everything was fine. Ann wanted to introduce her to the family, didn't she?

“A decent assistant is so hard to come by these days,” the striped man said. “I had to sack mine a while ago, because he was utterly useless.”

“Yes, incompetence is very much a disease.” Lister shoved the last piece of her orange into her mouth and closed the lid of the empty lunch box.

“He just… would have a breakdown at the worst time. Said he had, I don't know, depression or something.” His lips curled into a despicable sneer. 

Lister stopped her hands.

“I don’t know what’s going on with these young people. It’s almost as if—”

“Mental health issues,” Lister said in her deep voice, “are not something to be sneered at, Mr…?”

Any hint of disdain that had remained on his face by then vanished in a tick. “Acaster, ma’am.” His mouth opened and closed. “It’s only a joke, you see. I was just trying to brighten the mood.”

Pathetic.

“Hmm. Still, that does not make you free from the consequences of your statements, Mr. Lancaster.”

“Acaster—”

“Mr. Acaster. Whatever.” Lister waved it off. “Either way, I do hope that the old assistant of yours is now working happily under someone who has a fundamental sense of decency.” She put her lunch box away. “Now, you’ve got to excuse me. I have better things to do.” Standing up, she stared them down. “You gentlemen enjoy the rest of the gossiping.”

She kissed Mrs. Barlow goodbye and trod out of the room. If the men spat out curses under their breath, Lister didn’t hear them. 

…

The weather forecast had been proven accurate, and it was pouring when Lister came home to Ann. She rang on her doorbell and immediately heard the barking of Argus.

The door opened a crack. Then, Ann opened it wider with slight surprise on her face. “You’re early.”

“Yes, the office made me rather blue.” Lister kissed her on the cheek and undid the top buttons on her shirt as she entered. "I knew if there was one face in the world I'd be delighted to see, it was yours, Adney."

Argus circled around her, wagging his tail like a whip in his happy dance. 

After Lister gave the dog a greeting, Ann pulled her close once again for a proper kiss. “He was a very good boy. We took a walk in the park and made lots of friends.”

“And did he eat all of his food? Green peas, too?”

“He did,” Ann said. “Are you hungry? I was just going to start cooking.”

“Don't rush. It’s a shame it’s raining, though. No drinking the lassi on the terrace.”

“A shame, yes.”

Ann put on her plaid apron, rolled up her sleeves, and braided her hair before getting to work. Her hands moved with brisk efficiency. There was a faint tune she hummed, along with the clicking sound of cooking tools and the sound of the knife hitting the board. Something about this felt painfully familiar.

With a wine glass in her hand, Lister hovered around the kitchen, watching her work. This kind of domesticity had never appealed to Lister, who preferred the glamour and ecstacy of high society. But Ann, she made it look so captivating. Then, it came to her that she had never seen Ann in an apron before this. Not this closely anyhow.

Lister stood next to her and, looking over the stuff on the cutting board, flinched a little. “Are those onions?”

“Yes. They aren’t making you cry, are they? I put them in the fridge beforehand so the chemical that makes you cry wouldn’t scatter in the air.”

“No, I’m alright.” Lister stared at the sliced onions. “In the fridge?”

Ann nodded. “I googled. You can also microwave them before cutting.” 

“Huh. I should tell Marian about this.”

“Oh, she knows.” Ann chuckled. “She just doesn’t do it.”

“Is that right? That sadistic fiend.” Lister smirked before taking a quick look at the kitchen island. “Do you need a hand? Should I make the lassi myself?”

The knife stopped, and Ann looked up. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Ah, excuse me?”

“I just—” Ann laughed. “I just assumed you couldn’t.”

“I could. I just don’t.”

“That’s exactly what people who can’t cook say.”

“Alright— It’s a bloody drink. How hard can that be, huh? Where’s the recipe?”

So, Lister found an online recipe for sweet lassi. It looked like a piece of cake. Just adding and mixing. She took plain yogurt out of the fridge, gathered a bag of sugar and a jar of cardamom powder, and set them all around a bowl. The first step was to whisk the curd until it was smooth, which could be done with a fork according to the recipe. Done. Too easy. The next was to add sugar, ten tbsps of it.

Lister faltered. Tbsps? Transactional banking standard procedure… Transactional bullshit procedure? 

“Tbsps…” Lister murmured. 

“Oh—” Ann put down her stirring spoon and pulled a set of measuring spoons out of a drawer.

And at the same time, it finally clicked in Lister’s head. "Yes, tablespoons." 

Of course, Lister knew the answer. It just hadn't come to her right away. 

Lister fiddled with the spoon set. It looked like it could be a distant cousin of a Swiss Army Knife. Thankfully, each spoon had a name carved on the handle. Tablespoon was the biggest one. 

“So, ten of them,” Lister said. 

“Yes.” Ann flashed a grin. “Ten _ tablespoons _.”

Opening the bag of sugar, Lister scooped a spoonful of it. 

“Oh, no—” Ann put a hand on Lister’s arm. “You have to fill it just below the brim. Let me show you.” She scooped sugar again and ran her pinky finger across the top of the spoon to remove the excess. She handed the level spoon to Lister. “There. Nine more of them.”

"But that's not how Marian does it." 

"She knows what's she's doing."

"Ah, and I don't? Is that what you're implying?"

The gentle smugness in Ann’s speech made her smile. 

Lister didn’t come across any more problems after mastering the art of measuring. The gorgeous lassi was poured into two glasses at last. Ann was now stirring the onions that had turned golden brown in a frying pan.

"_Voila _.” Lister gave her a glass and a kiss on the cheek. “Too easy. Told you I could do it.”

Ann took a sip. "Well done." But her lips were curling in a suppressed smile, giggles bubbling to the surface. 

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry—” Ann laughed out loud, then, covering her mouth with both hands. “Just— Transactional what?”

“Yeah, funny. Haha.” And when Ann continued to laugh, Lister decided she’d had enough. “Oh, you.” She held Ann’s sides and gave her a tickle.

“No! Stop!” With a yelp, Ann twisted in her arms to get free, but in vain. “I’m sorry! Please, stop!”

The curry forgotten, they laughed and wrestled and kissed in a tangle of arms. Lister managed to hoist the wiggling body of Ann on to the kitchen island, and Ann leapt at three chance and wrapped Lister’s arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Their lips found each other. The tickle fight ended without either of them noticing, and turned into another type of battle as their kisses grew deeper and sloppier. 

Lister nibbled at her neck. “You do know you’re going to have to suffer the consequences if you tease me like that.”

With shallow breathing, Ann smiled. “Maybe, that’s the goal.”

How daring.

They hadn’t done it outside the bedroom yet. Though Ann was gaining confidence each time, Lister still had made a decision not to risk pushing her out of her comfort zone when it came to that. But here, with Ann pulling her in between her legs like the day in the office, that decision seemed so meaningless. 

Ann rendered her out of control again, and again and again.

Maintaining eye contact, Lister brushed her thumb against the inside of Ann’s thigh. At the same moment, though, Argus came bouncing into the kitchen, restlessly pacing about to be included. 

Lister hesitated. “We should go upsta—”

“No, please.” Ann’s lips were insistent against hers.

The mewling sound that collected at the back of Ann’s throat caressed Lister in the lower abdomen. She groaned in her neck once, and raised her head to look at Argus. “Go upstairs, good boy. Upstairs. Now.”

The dog obeyed her command. 

Their lips met again. Lister opened her eyes slightly and found the look of euphoria written over Ann’s closed eyelids. But within seconds, this time, her phone rung beside where Ann was perched. Eugénie’s name showed up on the screen, distracting Lister.

“Anne.” 

“Shh. I got you.” Lister connected their lips as she slipped her hand back under her dress. The phone stopped buzzing. “We’ll make it quick, okay?” 

So, her fingers did just that, on the hard surface of the kitchen island. From the very first touch, Ann melted in her hand. Lister nipped at the tip of her ear and breathed hard. Ann let out a whimper. The walls around her fingers soon began to flutter, the legs on her either side shaking. 

Almost there. 

And, on the verge of a release, the kitchen timer went off. Lister’s hand faltered.

“No, don’t stop.” Ann quickened the pace of her gyrating hips.

Lister sucked on her neck, curling her fingers in a beckoning motion to hit the right spot, and her mouth went dry at the way Ann became even more soaked. The beeping of the timer quickened. Lister quickened the movement of her fingers to match the speed of it. The timer beeped louder and more quickly. Lister thrusted her fingers harder and faster. And at last, with a single sob, Ann came undone in her arms. 

Lister helped her through her climax, pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, and took some steps to the side to stop the timer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing: *done with love and passion*  
Editing: *done out of sheer spite*


	12. You could recite UK constitution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some business talk. Mariana is back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A brief mention of sexual harrassment in a scene at the park. Also a mention of an injury in the same scene. kinda gross, I guess :/

September flew by as quickly as it had come. And with the end of the third fiscal quarter, Lister’s workload increased to supervise the making of their financial reports alongside her CFO. 

The probe on Northwich had not been concluded, nor had they heard anything incriminating that could turn the situation upside-down and put Shibden in immediate jeopardy. Still, the board members refused to let down their guard. For good reasons, Lister knew. But it sounded like each month, their stance on Northwich grew inclined more and more toward its divestiture. 

“The share price just doesn’t look well, Miss Lister,” Mrs. Priestley said. “By what percentage did it go down? Twenty-five percent, was it?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am, over the last two months.”

“And your advisors have expressed concerns, haven’t they?”

Lister gave a nod, while sitting with her back straight. “They advised me the sooner we distance ourselves, the better. But that was right after the breaking of the news. Things are not the same.”

“Some businesses already cut ties with them.” Mrs. Priestley leafed through her handout. “The monthly revenue reports of Northwich are… I don’t know how to describe it… a mess.”

“Yes, but the damage is not unrepairable.” Lister leaned forward on the table. “It’s been over two months, and the probe hasn’t found anything. In the event that—”

“How does Mr. Ainsworth himself see it?” another member said. “Does he seem optimistic?”

“He does,” Lister said. “He talks to the investigators often, but he seems to be taking it quite well, quite amicably.” And by amicably, Lister meant in a cowardly way.

Washington exchanged an apprehensive look with her from the seat next to her. He bounced his knees, so Lister tapped her foot against his under the table to stop it.

“So, you won’t consider replacing him, either?” Mrs. Priestley said.

Lister shrugged. “It is on the table.”

Mrs. Priestley tilted her head. “Why do you keep defending Mr. Ainsworth after all the trouble he’s caused for you? It’s so not like you, Miss Lister. Is there something we need to know between you and him?”

"Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some sort of emotional interdependency?"

“Absolutely not,” Lister said, failing to conceal her complete disgust. “Yes, the monthly revenues are not pretty to look at, but the judgement should not be made yet. If we underwent divestiture or sacked him now, it would impact our image negatively, too. In the event that the probe found no evidence of illicit activity after divestiture, that would do us further damage. The best option now is to wait."

Halfway through, Lister didn’t even know what she was saying, but kept going. 

She was taking a gamble. She wasn't born yesterday. 

The option of divestiture was still in the cards. Her team was preparing for the path as well. But the timing to pull the trigger, as she said to the board, wasn’t right yet. Perhaps, the chance to do so had been in her hands at the beginning, when the attorney had announced the probe, when her advisors had suggested it. But it had passed, slipped through her fingers— Not that Lister wanted for it to come back. 

The meeting ended, and Lister strode out of the boardroom and down the hall with Washington on her tail.

“That went well,” she said.

“Did it? They didn’t look happy at all.” 

“As well as it could’ve gone. I never thought they could be convinced after one meeting.”

Washington shook his head, deep in thought. “About waiting for the probe to end, do you really mean that, ma’am?”

Lister kept looking ahead. “Yes,” she said. “The best option now is to wait and see. Giving the green light to its divestiture, at this… cagmag stage, without absolute proof of Northwich’s wrongdoing, might give the public the impression that Shibden is quitting on its loyal subsidiary. Like a general abandoning her wounded soldier on the battlefield.”

And there would also be a question as to why Lister had not made the decision sooner, which would paint her as an indecisive leader. She couldn’t have that. 

“Loyal? Ainsworth?” he said.

“I see you have doubt.”

“Well, anxiety, more like, ma’am. It’s not just me. Booth, too. Don’t get me wrong, but I want to ask the same thing Mrs. Priestley did.”

“Which is?”

Washington breathed out as if to muster courage. “Your relationship with Ainsworth. She’s got a point. This looks quite out of character. I don’t believe for a second that there’s an emotional connection between you two. But perhaps, something else…” 

At last, Lister stopped in front of the lift doors, pressed the up button, and looked Washington dead in the eye. “Money, you mean?”

“No, no, ma’am. Of course, not.”

Why was everyone around her such an awful liar?

“I’d kill the Queen before I let that tofu dildo of a man bribe me.” The lift door opened. Lister stepped in, but stood on the threshold to keep the door open. “It’s not lost on me that your career is at stake as well. Have faith in me, Washington. Can you do that?”

He looked at her with round eyes before bowing his head slightly.

Lister let the door close on him. 

Have faith. What a joke. Their words had some truth in them, didn’t they? This indecisiveness was not like Lister. There was no emotional, financial, or any kind of interdependency. What was it, then, that kept Ainsworth’s neck connected to his torso? Mercy? No, that would be truly out of character. Still, every time the idea of punishing Northwich or Ainsworth crossed her mind, it was accompanied by Ann’s clouded expression. 

…

Had she gone soft? No, Lister refused the idea. Ann had said cruelty was not the essence of running a business, but acumen and emotional detachment were crucial. It was a fact, no matter what Ann might say. And Lister had the right levels of these two. Gone soft, never. She resented that the thought had the audacity to occur to her.

Her decision to wait was right for all the reasons she had told the board. 

She looked up from her laptop and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head pounded. Eyestrain. The screen light flickered behind her closed eyelids. Opening her eyes, she looked at Ann, who stood a few metres away from Lister’s armchair in the studio. 

She was working on her commission. A reel of shiny barbed wire sat at her feet along with a pair of pliers. In front of her was a statue of barbed wire, placed at eye level, though the shape of it had no resemblance to the Earthling piece. It seems to have limbs or antennae, and it had no cotton inside. Just wires. Ann wouldn’t tell her what it was supposed to be. 

Ann touched the statue with her gloved hands, twisting the limbs this way and that. Lister found herself mesmerized by the sight. The roughness of those protective gloves and her overalls, the smoothness of her skin and hair that glowed in the light-filled room, the silver gleam of the pliers and wire, and the subtle crease of concentration between her brows. She had never met a person who could pull off such mundane clothes—and mundanity itself—as well as Ann did. Just like her in an apron. It was almost like magic.

Lister shifted her attention back to her laptop. The screen glared. She decided it was a good opportunity to take a break from technology, and took her journal out of her briefcase. 

The grandfather’s clock out in the hall chimed once. While scribbling, Lister glanced at her own wrist watch, but stilled her pen as the watch read eleven minutes after nine. Her phone said the same. Stepping out into the hall, she took a look at the grandfather’s clock. It read three thirty.

She returned to the studio.

“What’s wrong?” Ann said.

“That clock is awfully slow, or fast, depending on how you look at it.”

“Oh. Yes, it’s old. It wasn’t like that when my parents were still alive, but it’s more of a decor now.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that it strikes at odd hours?”

Ann pursed her lips and shrugged. 

“I should fix it when I have time and energy. It'll change to winter time in a matter of weeks anyhow.” Lister sat back down in the armchair, setting the open journal in her lap.

“If you like. What are you writing?” Ann gestured to her journal.

Lister gave a shrug. “What happened today. The weather. What I ate. People I met and things we talked about— About the clock, too.” 

“Any blackmail material?”

“Hmm?”

Ann’s lips curled into a smile. “Marian once said that you keep all your secrets there.”

“Ah. Nothing scandalous like that. I told you not to believe everything that comes out of her mouth. You’re being brainwashed.” Lister pointed her own at her.

Ann chuckled. “Since when have you been keeping a journal?”

“Since I was fifteen. It was on scraps of paper, though, in the beginning.”

“What made you start?” 

Here, Lister faltered. She dropped her gaze to the half-filled pages, and her hand snuck up to cover them, protecting her most loyal friend from the prying eyes. “Well, I had my heart broken for the first time. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so…” 

Ann came closer with a reassuring sparkle in her eye. Her gloves were off. “Do you want to talk about it?” It was obvious she assumed the nature of the heartbreak was romantic.

“It’s the past," Lister said. "I have nothing to unload.”

“Talking about the past doesn’t have to be about unloading.” Ann’s voice had tenderness as she slowly knelt down in front of her and took her hand. “Someone once told me, sometimes it’s just sharing, getting to know what you’re made of, and that's more than enough.” 

Ann’s face was close to the journal. They both knew that, with one flicking of her eyes, she could peer into it. But she kept staring right into Lister’s eye instead. Still, Lister felt ambivalent, torn between two choices. Removing her hand from the journal to leave it unprotected or closing it. She chose the latter and then stroked Ann’s cheek, forcing a smile.

“All in good time,” she said. “I’m exhausted today. Let’s go to bed.” She averted her eyes so she wouldn’t be confronted with Ann’s look of disappointment.

…

Ann had a way of unhinging her, it was a hard reality that Lister had to come to terms with. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was about Ann, what differentiated her from the other women Lister had been with. But there was certainly a pattern. Every time Lister regained balance, Ann managed to sweep her off her feet in the next breath with nothing more than a few words and a single look. So gently that Lister wouldn’t notice the fall until she was lying flat on the ground, unguarded. 

Her naivete. Like the sun in one of Aesop’s Fables, it made Lister shed her armour, layer by layer, piece by piece, as if it was of her own volition. 

But was there a self-defense method, Lister wondered as she fixed her high collar in the mirror, against the sun? In the face of nature, Lister was just a tiny human. And what would happen when all of her armour were gone, and the glare of the sun never eased off?

She left the lavatory of her office, putting a brake on her train of thought. Not because the thoughts frightened her, no. It was because she didn’t have time for that kind of senseless musing. She had places to go.

Outside her office, there was Eugénie waiting with her briefcase and coat. And Mariana by the desk.

“Mariana.” Lister put on her coat. “It’s been a while since. How can I be of help?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by and make sure you’re not dead.”

“How thoughtful. As you can see, I’m alive and very much occupied.” Lister made strides towards the lifts. “Can you make an appointment next time you stop by? You do know this isn’t a small antique shop where I have an unlimited amount of time to spare.”

Mariana followed her. “It was you that said I never had to make one.” 

“And I’m revoking the free pass.” 

“I texted you twenty minutes ago to ask if you were in—”

“Which I’ve elected to ignore due to lack of time.”

“Not to mention the several calls that you never returned over the weekend.”

“If I was answering every one of your calls, Mariana, there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day. Haven’t I told you this many times before?”

They arrived at lift foyer. Lister pressed the down button. Casting a side glance, she found Mariana’s glowering face.

“You aren’t still mad at me, are you?” Mariana said.

“For what?”

“Come on, Freddie.”

“No, seriously. Is there something that—” The lift arrived, and with its upbeat dinging sound, a light bulb appeared over her head. “Oh.” Their argument following the news of Charles’ falling. "Right."

As the door slid open, they all stepped into the lift, feeling claustrophobic despite the glass wall that gave a view of the cloudy sky. Lister and Mariana stood next to each other by the wall. Eugénie, in front of the control panel, stared at the rows of buttons.

“Right,” Lister said. “No, I’m not mad. You know I can’t stay mad at you for long. I really do have plans.”

“You can’t stay mad because you don’t have time for it.”

“I have plans.”

“Alright, then. Whatever. Can I come to your place tonight?”

“I have plans.”

Mariana fell silent for a split second. Her eyes darted to Eugénie. Her heavily manicured hand rose to stroke Lister’s arm. “I miss you. Is it really that wrong to want to hear your voice?” 

Lister didn’t know whether to even acknowledge the remark. “How’s Charles?”

“Still a Sleeping Beauty— Well, a Sleeping Beast more like. I hardly see him. When can I see you, then?”

“Not for a while. I’m busy.” Then, Lister decided to add, “I have someone now.”

The hand on her arm stilled, but soon resumed its gentle stroking again. “Ah, and here I was, thinking it was work that had been occupying you, but—”

“That, too—”

“You’ve got a new toy."

Lister looked her square in the eye. “Why must everyone else that's not you be a toy for me?"

"Pfft, that's who you are. That's how it's always been. You meet someone new who can satiate your sexual and intellectual appetite, but once the honeymoon period is over, you come back to me. I mean, look at Mrs. Hobert. You told me afterwards that you only courted her because I was outside the country."

"For six months. With Charles. Yes, that's what I said. This is different."

"How? Don't you realise that's what you say every time?"

The door opened on the third floor, and some people came in and filled up the space. Visitors, who had no idea about the custom to steer the heck clear of Miss Lister in the lift. In the hushed chatter of these visitors, Mariana's hand brushed against hers, knuckles touching, fingers threatening to become intertwined. Lister whipped out her smartphone and held it with both hands to answer some texts. Mariana’s gaze felt piercing.

They didn't exchange any more words as they reached the ground floor. Lister strode straight to the front entrance, people parting before her. 

The company's car was waiting with its door open. She stopped before the vehicle, placing her hand on top of the door, and it was only then when she turned around. Eugénie caught up first, so Lister let her get in the car. Mariana, her heels clicking as fast as possible, came shortly after. 

"Are you going home?" Lister said. "We could give you a lift if that’s the case."

Mariana waved her hand. "No, I'm… going to a church meeting." She refused to make eye contact.

"Very well. Have fun."

So, Lister gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving her on the pavement. Her figure, clad in church clothes, grew smaller as they drove off, turning into an indistinguishable dot in the crowd and traffic, and disappeared when the car turned a corner.

But Mariana was right about one thing. Lister didn't have the luxury of time to stay mad at her, or chew over her words.

...

Indeed, her time was too precious. She wouldn't, nor could she ever waste a single minute for something so trivial as anger or sorrow. That would be beneath her anyway.

The morning air felt crisp as she walked Argus. And while lost in her own musing, she vaguely registered the colour pallette of dry leaves under her feet. But it must have rained last night. The leaves were wet, sticking to her shoes, and didn’t make a rustling sound.

Time flew particularly fast around this time of year. Lots of festive events to attend, heavier traffic, the social expectation to relax and have a blast at the same time, her own family, the fourth fiscal quarter. But, of course, before all of this usual pain in the neck, the meeting with Ainsworth was scheduled in November this year.

Lister met with Ann by their usual red phone box. The dog's lead fell into Ann’s hand.

Ann pointed down at her feet. “I got new trainers.” 

On her feet were a pair of shiny black shoes with a pink Nike logo on each side. She stood on one foot, rotating her ankle in the air for show, and Argus brought his nose to it to get a sniff.

"Pretty. What happened to the old ones?" Lister said.

Ann shrugged. "They were getting old and dirty." 

"You should've told me. I would've paid for them."

As her lips curled into a smile, Ann shook her head. "You don't need to always buy me things."

“Hmm.” Lister started the walk.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Ann said. "It was thundering quite fiercely, wasn't it?"

"Was there thunder?"

"Didn't you notice? I couldn't sleep for a while. Then, I heard the clock strike around three. The rain had stopped by then."

"Right. No, I didn’t notice. I was working until quite late in the night." 

Lister looked at the now clear sky. The dim light of dawn entered the eye and made her want to yawn and sneeze at the same time. When she turned her head around, she caught Ann studying her face.

“Just work?” Ann said. “Or, is there something occupying your mind?”

“Ah, well—”

“Do you want to talk about it? Just to get it off your chest?”

Here it was again. Ann, trying to burrow into Lister’s heart, trying to unhinge her, probably without even realising it herself. 

Lister felt a bitter smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Aren’t you tired of always having to listen to me complain?”

“I’d never tire of listening to you, you know that. You could recite UK constitution for hours, and I’d still stay with you until the end of it.”

Lister chuckled. “I would fall asleep before that.”

“I know. But my point is, I’d do anything to help you relax.”

“You say that now, but in five years, ten years, you will regret your words.”

Ann looked up at her, parted her lips, but closed them a moment later. 

“What is it?” Lister said.

Ann bit her lip.

"Go on." 

Ann’s gaze never left the dog as she said, “I was just going to say, that’d be a small price to pay to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A flush rose to her cheeks, and like the sparks of a wildfire, it ricocheted to Lister's face. She took a swig from her water bottle and tried to cough the heat away. It didn't help. Sleep deprivation was to be blamed, she told herself. It makes you susceptible to emotional fluctuations like this. She should take a power nap in the office later.

“So? What’s bugging you?” Ann said.

A sigh fell from Lister’s lips. It'd be too much of a hassle for her to dodge the question right now. “It’s Northwich. The share prices are going down every day. The probe is taking forever. And… I don’t know. It’s the waiting part that wears out my nerves. I don’t know if I could keep the board happy that much longer. Well— They already aren't, but to keep them from getting any more fretful. The board… Ainsworth and the board. You’ve already applied for passport renewal, right?”

Ann nodded. 

“Good. And do you still want to come with me? Because, I really might have to sack him, and I know how you feel about that—”

“Oh, yes. About that,” Ann said, with a twin furrow on her brow. “I don’t think I feel much sympathy for him anymore. I looked him up on the internet.”

“You did? Why?”

“I wanted to know what the person who had been bugging you looked like." Ann shook her head and looked up at her. "He doesn’t really look nice, does he? Rather condescending looking.”

Lister let out a breathy laugh. 

“Then, there was this tweet of a woman,” Ann said with sigh, “who claims she was sexually assaulted by him when she used to work for his company—or harassed. I don’t remember clearly. I was too disturbed to finish the thread.”

Lister had balked and taken a step to the side, still walking, starting at Ann as if that could give her a better view of this new piece of information. “Really?” she said at last.

“Mhmm. She was an intern or something. I feel awful and so stupid for ever feeling sorry for him.”

“Good God.” Lister craned her tense neck skyward. Her drowsy mind was refusing to process this in a proper manner, instead letting it bounce around inside her head. “Brilliant. Another problem on top of an already enormous pile of shite. I see how that is.”

“I’m sorry,” Ann said. “I’ve added more to your stress.”

“No— I mean, it’s… Can you possibly find the tweet again for me?”

“I could try, I think.”

“Good, because there’s a possibility that it may not be true, tweeted out by someone with a fake identity in an attempt to—” Then, Lister hit herself in the tit internally when she saw Ann’s apparent dismay. “No, I shouldn’t have said that. Makes me sound like a proper chauvinist pig. You were absolutely right to tell me this, Ann.”

Lister rubbed stubborn sleep out of her eyes. It only caused a flurry of black spots in her vision, which set her nerves further on edge. Walking by the Italian Garden to cross the Serpentine, they passed by the same black man with the labrador that had flirted with Ann before. Giving Ann only a courtly wave of his hand, however, he didn’t dare to come closer for a chit-chat. Lister saw, in the corner of her eye, him making his best effort to avoid eye contact with her.

What she failed to notice in the brain fog was that her strideds were growing bigger, her pace quicker. Argus whined behind her. It was only then when she turned back and saw him and Ann about ten metres away. Ann had stopped and was on her knee, adjusting her shoe laces. She stood up, beamed at Lister, and scurried to cacth up.

“Am I going too fast?” Lister said.

“No, no. It’s just my shoes. I need to wear them in a bit."

“Perhaps, we should go slower if that’s the case.”

Ann shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to. I’m fine.”

...

So, they continued to walk along the pond. The wind produced gentle ripples on the water surface, the rising sun reflecting off the waves. Lister looked at the floating sculpture of fifty barrels and squinted at the eye-molesting colours. She hated magenta. 

She shifted her attention to the ground, where several puddles obstructed their way. Ann and Lister avoided them, while Argus jumped into them, going from one to another in utter joy. The muddy water splashed everywhere and stained Ann’s new shoes.

“Argus, behave yourself,” Lister said. “You’re making Ann very sad.”

Ann chuckled. “Let him have some fun.”

“But look at your shoes, and your legs—” Lister got behind her and tilted her head to the side, taking a peek at the damage done.

Ann’s yoga pants ended in the middle of her calves. The dark fabric had even dark spots. The exposed skin glistened with puddle water that trickled down her ankles and into the shoes. But Lister's gaze traveled back up very slightly to the back of her left ankle. The skin seemed red there. Ann kept walking forward, and the redness poked out from behind the top line of the shoe, presenting itself more clearly. It was a blister.

"Adney, you're hurt."

Ann twisted her neck backward to look down at her own feet. She turned her entire body to face Lister, hiding the back of her ankles, and shrugged. "What? No, I'm not."

What a terrible liar she was. 

"Ann. You've got a blister. Let me see." Without waiting for a response, Lister pulled her over to a nearby railing in a gentle, but insistent way.

"Anne, I'm fine. It's true." 

Lister made her sit on the railing and knelt at her feet. She ignored Ann's continuous whining and took her trainers off, placing her feet on her own thighs. Her left ankle did have a blister about the size of a penny, already broken and showing the glossy pink skin. Lister winced at it. On top of it, there was another blister, still with water inside, on her right ankle.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” _ Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? _

“It’s nothing,” Ann said.

"Stop lying. This isn't cute at all." Her tone came out harsher than intended.

Ann flinched and looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to slow you down. Please, don’t be cross.”

“I’m not…” Lister bowed her head and squeezed both of Ann’s hand. It was the sleep deprivation. She had less control of her emotion than usual. “Don’t be like this. Always staying quiet to please other people. It worries me.”

A faint smile crept across Ann’s lips. “I only do it for the right people.”

“How would you know if they’re the right people? People can have ulterior motives. They might take advantage of you.”

“Are you? Taking advantage of me?”

In a flash, that blew away all the fog inside Lister’s head. 

But before any word could come out, before any thought of justification could form in her mind, Ann giggled. “You think I’m a fragile child that needs protection all the time, but I’m not. Of course, I’m not as experienced or strong as you are. But I know when someone is taking advantage of me.”

“Do you?”

Ann gave a nod and a bashful smile. “I should’ve said ‘the right person’ instead of saying in the plural.” She caressed Lister’s cheek with the back of her hand. “If anything, sometimes I feel like I’m the one taking advantage of you.”

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes I feel like you’re with me out of pity. Like this, I play the role of a fragile woman so you couldn’t leave me even if you wanted to. Then, I try to get close to your sister, your dog, your assistant, people around you, so I could insert myself deeper into your life like a thorn.”

“Ann—”

“I know it’s not true.” Ann shook her head as if to drive these thoughts away. “But… It’s my brain. We aren’t good friends.”

Lister wished she could will her own brain to function properly, just for a moment, to give a few words Ann desired. But the mental fog returned. She knew what emotions she was supposed to feel in this situation, but felt none of them. 

“I'm not scaring you away, am I?” 

Looking up, Lister found the terrified eyes of Ann. “No. Of course, not.”

“I know I can sound creepy sometimes. Stalkerish. I don't want to scare you away. But then, I’m becoming greedier each day, and I don’t know how to control it.”

Lister ran her hand up and down Ann’s leg in a soothing gesture. “You don’t need to be frightened.” She managed to smile and, still on her knees, whirled around to show Ann her back. “Come on. I’ll carry you home.”

“What—” Ann let out a hybrid of a laugh and a whine. “Anne, I can walk.”

Lister glanced back with a wider smile. “Barefooted? I don’t think so, miss. And I’m not letting you wear those shoes now.”

“But it’s so embarrassing. People will laugh at me.” While complaining, Ann came to rest her entire weight on Lister’s back.

Lister picked the shoes up and made Ann hold them, wrapped the dog’s lead around her own wrist, before getting to her feet. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. The bridge is right over there. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Ann pressed her lips to her neck. Lister could feel her smiling.

People’s eyes were on them. Although their attention couldn’t bother Lister less, she noticed some of them had their phones pointed at them. Their pictures would be all over the internet in a minute, she was certain. 

Then, her useless mind returned to the forgotten scheme. These pictures could provide a softer image of Lister, she thought. They could showcase the caring relationship they truly had. They could invalidate the online conspiracy theory. 

It was a fleeting thought. Still, it was enough to make Lister disgusted with her own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ainsworth is a bitch. This has been a psa.  
What part did you enjoy and did not enjoy? Let me know :))))


	13. The Limbo dance

Later in the office, Lister texted Booth, ordering him to come to her office first thing in the morning. She drained a dozen cups of tea for maximum caffeination and took a power nap for thirty minutes. 

When her alarm went off, the caffeine had worked miracles. Lister felt like a robot fresh out of the factory. Her mind blank and clear, her eyes glazed, and her body movements gauche, but not an whiff of the irksome mind fog. Good. The tea had made her bladder full, though. She took care of it before her CMO came into her office, but by the time the meeting had started, the call of nature was beckoning her yet again. 

“Is something the matter, ma’am?” Booth said. “You seem quite agitated.”

“What makes you say that?”

Hesitantly, he pointed his pen at her bouncing knees. 

Lister stopped them. She needed to go to the loo. “I’m agitated, Booth. Something unpleasant came up in regard to Northwich. I heard from someone I trust that Ainsworth might have engaged in inappropriate behaviour at work.”

“Inappropriate, how?”

“In a sexual way.”

Booth recoiled.

“There's allegedly a Twitter thread posted by his victim,” Lister said. “I want your team to look for this person, verify their identity, and look into the allegation."

"That’s a nasty one. A sexual allegation." Booth scribbled on his notepad. "Any clue as to who the person is? The victim, I mean? Their real name or account ID?"

"She was his intern. Not sure when. Someone else is looking for the thread for me. I'll let you know if she finds something before you do."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I know we have quite a lot on our plate already, but consider this a top priority. I already talked to Ainsworth. He's denying everything, obviously. I'm sure he will have come up with more excuses and explanations by tomorrow afternoon."

"Should we press this person not to talk to anyone else?"

Lister realised she was bouncing her knees again. Getting to her feet, she gave a nod. "Do as you see fit, Booth. Although, it must've been on the internet for a while now. Lord knows how that could be effective as deterrence."

Booth left the office, and she limped to the loo to freed herself from the physiological suffering at last. She had consumed a lifetime worth of tea, so she asked Eugénie to get her a cup of coffee. 

She wished—really wished—she could use her brain power for something more productive instead of brooding over Ainsworth. But like a virus, that man child invaded her mind. Daily, hourly, minute by minute. Infecting Lister. Infecting Shibden. And while it had taken some time for the news of the probe to sink in, she had little trouble accepting that he was the type to prey on women in vulnerable positions. Nothing had yet to be concluded, though. The benefit of the doubt was necessary, not for Ainsworth, but for her own sake. 

Oh, to be able to see the future. The time machine, she needed it.

Still, to her own amazement, it felt like the sky was clearing up. The prospect of sacking Ainsworth—and the whole problem of Northwich—now seemed a little tolerable. Whether it was thanks to her caffeinated brain or the change in Ann’s attitude towards Ainsworth, she didn’t know.

…

...

Some evenings later, at a cancer charity gala ball, Lister watched a juggler performing on stage. To the beat of music, they manipulated two coloured batons with another set of sticks, shorter and dull-looking, in their hands. Devil sticks, they were called according to the earlier introduction. The lighting of the venue was voluptuous. The batons twirled in the air, defying gravity with the power of momentum. But even when the spinning slowed down and Lister thought they’d fall to the ground, the performer still kept them bouncing on the manipulating sticks.

After that performance, Lister socialised with her ‘friends’ and socialites while a string quartet played on stage. A female magician in a tuxedo came to them at one point. 

“Fancy a trick?” she said in a slight French accent, her eyes trained on Lister.

Lister couldn’t be more uninterested. But her companions asked with such eagerness that she gave the magician a go sign. “Just one trick,” she said. “Hit me with your best shot.”

The magician drew a deck of playing cards out of its pack and winked. “I won’t disappoint you.” 

So, there was a lot of shuffling, picking, more shuffling, and straining her eyes in the dim illumination to catch any hand gestures meant to misdirect the audience. But somehow, the magician managed to deceive Lister. 

“Is this your card, Miss Lister?” She showed the ten of diamonds. 

While her companions cheered, Lister maintained a calm and cool attitude. “Indeed, it is.” 

“You look so sceptical.” The magician laughed and, in a fluid motion, held the card between her fingers and offered it to Lister. “Go on. Look. It has no marking.”

“I know. That’d be a filthily cheap trick.” Still, she checked both sides of it, running her finger along the edges to look for the slightest dent or something. There was none. She returned it.

The magician put it back in the deck. “Fancy another one?”

In the crowd behind the magician, Lister caught sight of someone that had an awful resemblance to Christopher Rawson. At the same time, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a text from Ann. “As much as I’d love to,” she said to the magician, “I would have to pass.”

“Alright. Come back anytime when you want to be bewildered.” The magician drew closer and, with a wink, gave her a slithering caress from shoulder to elbow. 

Lister flashed back a smirk, but didn’t even think to let her gaze linger as she walked away. 

She went to the lavatory, where the lighting was straightforward and bright, and sat in front of a vanity mirror in the powder room. She unlocked her phone. 

It turned out that Ann hadn’t texted. Instead, she had sent a picture. Of a pumpkin, with Argus and butterflies carved and etched in it. Halloween was still a month away. Lister had never been keen on the festival, preferring the bonfires and fireworks of Guy Fawkes Night. The face in the mirror smiled nonetheless. 

Closing the texting app, Lister gave her a call.

“Hi,” Ann said.

“Enjoying your evening, I see?”

“Could've been better with you. Argus isn’t a very good conversational partner. Argus, want to say hello to your mum? Nope, he went downstairs.” Ann let out a chuckle. “How’s the party? Have you left there? It sounds very quiet.”

“No, I’m in the loo. Smells like all kinds of perfumes combined. The food is rather poor. I much prefer yours. But the music is wonderful. They are playing Handel now.”

“Handel?”

Lister spelled it out for her. “A German classical composer. One of my favourites.”

Ann said the name a few times in a mumble. There was a rattling noise on the other end of the line, and Lister knew she was jotting the name down or typing it in on her laptop. 

It was when the lavatory door opened, letting the music flow in. From where she sat, Lister’s view was blocked by a wall. She could only hear the sound of high heels on the tile floor. The footsteps sounded deliberate, meandering as if peeing wasn’t the goal. Some seconds later, they came into the powder room. It was Mariana.

“Hey,” Ann said over the phone, “I have one more pumpkin. Do you want to carve it, or can I?”

Lister kept her eyes locked with those of Mariana. “Um, you do it. I’ve got to go. Don't stay up too late.” After saying goodnight, she hung up. 

Mariana sauntered closer, her thigh peeking out from beneath the slit in her dress with each step. Her attire looked more provocative than usual. "You seemed to be having fun with Lady Fortuna out there."

"Who?"

"Lady Fortuna. The magician that was flirting with you shamelessly. She slid something into your pocket when you were leaving." Mariana waved her hand at her left jacket pocket.

And indeed, there was a card in there. The ten of diamonds, and it had a phone number written on the back side of it. It hadn't been there when Lister had examined it. 

Impressive, she had to admit.

Snickering, she placed it on the vanity table. She saw in the mirror that Mariana's eyes were on it, staring it down, as if it was more than a playing card. 

"How do you know her name? Is she your friend?"

Mariana looked at her in the mirror. "She's a celebrity magician, Freddie. A national treasure. Everybody knows who she is."

"Not me."

"You could've fooled me. Considering she's exactly your type, I would've thought you'd already slept with her."

Lister shrugged. She didn't think Lady Fortuna was that attractive. In a conventional sense, yes, with her brown eyes and raven hair and sensual accent and gushing confidence. But not as irresistible as Ann.

The door of the lavatory opened again. They could hear the chatter of people as they walked to the stalls, away from the powder room.

Mariana leaned on the table as she fiddled with the card. The vanity chair Lister sat in was low, and the exposed skin of her thigh came rather close to her face. “How’s it going with the Ainsworth boy?”

That took Lister by surprise. "What?"

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

Mariana scoffed. "What do you mean? Of course, I'm alright."

"Well, you never ask me about work. You hate it. You're jealous of it."

"I am not jealous of your work. How on earth do you get jealous of an inanimate object— A concept— Whatever it is."

Despite her thorny words, there was something wistful about her air. Something usual was lacking, as if she was holding back, though Lister couldn't fathom why or what that might be. 

"Hmm," Lister said. "If you insist. Ainsworth. Yes, not only is he an irritating twat, he might also be a sexual predator.”

“Ugh.”

“Correct. He’s, what's it called…” Lister snapped her fingers. “The limbo dance. Every time I lower the bar for him, he somehow manages to stoop even lower. Every afternoon, I dread opening his email to see what kind of trouble he’s gotten himself into this time.” 

“Why emails? I thought you were talking to him on the phone everyday.”

“I was. Then, I finally decided that, for the sake of my sanity, I'd have to go back to email correspondence.”

“And you said he was a sexual predator?”

“Might be. We haven’t confirmed anything yet. Booth’s people have found the accuser on Twitter, but cannot contact her. Seems like she is taking some time off from the platform. We just hired a private investigator, to go the states. And that is just the side dish, what with the never-ending probe and media scrutiny. So… Hey ho.”

“No good news, then?”

“At this point, it’d take his life for the situation to improve.”

Mariana pursed her lips. Her eyes darting back to the card, which had been folded in the middle. 

“What?” Lister said.

“Oh, nothing,” she said in her quintessential tone she used when it was not nothing. “It’s just that… You look rather well.”

Lister checked herself in the mirror, fixing her hair. “It’s a gala. Of course, I look good.”

“I said ‘well,’ not ‘good.’ And I’m sort of baffled that, despite what you’ve just told me, you’re not biting my head off.”

“We could get along when we want to, surely?”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?

“Is it?”

Mariana puffed out her breath. “There’s a change in your demeanor, in your air, almost as if—” She turned her face away from Lister. “I was just wondering where that change came from.”

“Ah, let me give you a one-word clue. Charles."

"No, that's what you like to think. It certainly might be a factor, but… It’s your new toy, isn’t it?” 

In this moment, Lister knew this was what Mariana had come to talk about. All the nonsense with Ainsworth had been nothing but a conversational buffer. 

Lister smiled. “She’s not a toy. We’ve become friends. I like her company.”

“Yes, I can see that. This is how I found out about Mrs. Hobert, too, remember? I always know when you’ve found a good sex buddy.”

A huge smirk tugged at Lister’s mouth as she recalled the particularly good sex they’d had a few days earlier. She had made Ann climax by just nibbling on her hipbones. It was a first for both of them. 

“So,” Mariana said, “how’d you meet her?”

“Well, she’s an artist. An excellent sculptor and painter. I bought a few of her pieces and asked her out, and she said yes.”

Mariana parted her lips slightly, knotting her brows. “You mean, the Rawson girl? The one you told me about in the office?” 

Lister had forgotten about the conversation. “Yes. You’ve got to stop calling her that. Her name is Ann, without an e.”

“Ann? Wow.” Mariana sneered. “Your narcissism got so excessive that now you have a toy that has your name, huh? I know a few Marys in my life, but never thought to fuck any of them.” She had her head tilted with her chin slightly pushed forward. A gesture not at all unfamiliar to Lister.

Lister watched it, and gave her some seconds to marinate in that passive aggression sour cream. “I could be wrong, but I think you say that to be hurtful. And we can discuss where that unattractiveness stems from like two respectable adults, Mariana, because you can observe me all you want and make a remark about my so-called change in demeanor, but really, what you say reveals a lot about yourself.”

“You’re so full of shite.”

“You may walk away anytime you’d like. I’m not stopping you.” 

“Is that who you were talking to?” Mariana nodded at Lister’s phone, placed near the playing card. 

“Perhaps.”

“So, you’ve successfully groomed her. Wonderful. I’m just surprised that you were still hung up on that ridiculous scheme— On second thought, no, I’m not surprised. Why aren’t you married yet, though? Is she reluctant?”

Lister regretted having told her about the scheme. Stupid decision. “These things take time. And— Forget about the scheme. Like I said, we enjoy the company of each other, and that’s the most important thing. We are planning a trip across the pond next month. We’ll go see a musical on Broadway.”

“You hate musicals.”

Lister shrugged.

“But surely, the Rawsons are going to find out sooner or later,” Mariana said. “If they haven’t already, that is.”

At the mention of her nemeses, Lister strained her ears, making sure they had no eavesdropper. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in a slightly hashed tone. “She only believes my words.”

“So, you haven’t told her?”

“Why would I? It’s not like I’m taking advantage of her.” 

Ann’s smile, as she sat on the park railing, flashed across Lister’s mind. _ Are you taking advantage of me? _

“No,” Lister said, “I’m not taking advantage of anyone.”

“But you’re lying to her.”

“I’m not. Why would that be a lie? We could get married and be happy. Truly happy. The Rawsons are just an extra plus.” 

Mariana stared at her, blinking, stared off into space, and looked back at her. Her eyes had a swirl of emotions Lister could not decipher. 

“What, Mariana?”

But instead of offering an answer, Mariana pushed herself off the vanity table and extended her arms toward Lister’s neck. When Lister realised her intent, the top button on her shirt had already been undone. 

“What are you doing?” Lister kept still, though, more curious than irritated. 

The second and third top buttons soon followed the same fate, exposing the base of her neck. Lister was going to stop her if she reached for the fourth. But Mariana did not. What she did was slipping her hand under the shirt, hooking her fingers under her necklace—their red-stone necklace—and pulling it out to sit on top of the shirt. Across her rouge lips now appeared a slight smirk. She slowly came to stand right behind Lister, locking eyes in the mirror, while her hands rested on Lister’s shoulders. 

Now with her satiated curiosity, Lister could not conceal her dissatisfaction if she wanted to. 

Mariana’s smirk widened. “Well,” she said. “I hope you get what you want, Freddie.” She then put her hands on Lister’s cheeks, made her bend her neck backward so she was looking at the ceiling, and kissed her on the lips. “Have fun.”

Lister watched her walk away in the mirror. Her gaze travelled back to the necklace, reflecting the harsh light of the vanity. She touched it and felt the coldness of the stone and metal chain. The coldness— Merciless and comforting. She smiled at it, before reaching back behind her neck to unclasp it. It came off easily. 

Lister buttoned up her shirt and stood up. The necklace and the playing card sat on the vanity table. After a split second of pondering, she grabbed the necklace and shoved it in her jacket pocket, leaving only the ten of diamonds, and left the lavatory.

As she strode through the crowd, someone called out to her from behind. Lister whipped around and saw Rawson, sauntering towards her in a way that was probably meant to be menacing. Too slow, anyhow, for Lister’s liking.

“Ah, Mr. Rawson, how are you?” She strode up to him with a jovial smile, grabbing a glass of champagne on her way. “You look very well. Holidays in Saudi Arabia, I heard? Oh, I envy you. I wish I had that kind of leisure time.”

“Yes, I heard about—”

“But anyhow,” she said and emptied the glass in one gulp. “I must go now. I’ve got a lady to go home to. Lovely to see you.” She shook his hand and, before their hands separated, turned on her heel and made a beeline for the exit. 

…

It was past ten when Lister’s taxi pulled over in front of Ann’s house. The lights in the studio were on. Lister tipped the driver well and hopped out, prancing up to Ann’s door and ringing the doorbell. Argus responded first with his bark, and several moments later, Ann’s bashful grin answered the door.

Lister couldn’t contain her own giggle as she entered. Argus stood on his hind legs and gave her an aggressive, drooly smooch in the palm. 

“How was the party?” Ann said, closing the door. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, dreadfully boring.” After a peck of the lips, Lister ambled into the living room. “A bunch of self-important potheads, they are, who like to think they have a say in anything if they donate a few million pounds.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Hmm. But—” Lister looked at Ann, who was in her pajamas. “Doesn’t matter now that I’m with you. Were you going to bed?”

“Kind of,” Ann said. “Do you want to eat something? You said the food wasn’t very good?”

Liser waved a dismissive hand. “Made up for it with a bit of champagne.”

“Okay. I was working on the design for the second pumpkin, but my brain got too tired.” 

There was her sketchbook on the table, as well as her laptop with a speaker connected to it. It was only then when Lister noticed the music in the room. Handel’s violin sonatas, YouTube said on the laptop screen. 

“I wanted to text you goodnight,” Ann said. “Then, the moment I picked up my phone”—she giggled—“There you were!”

“Ah, how romantic of me.”

Ann bobbed her head, biting her lip. She gestured to the laptop. “I had heard his music before. In TV shows and movies. I didn’t know the Hallelujah chorus was written by him. It’s embarrassing.”

“Everyday is a lesson.” Lister gently pulled her in by the waist, and Ann wrapped her arms around her neck. Their lips met.

“I’m making a pumpkin pie tomorrow,” Ann said. “Marian gave me her latest recipe. It looks promising.”

“Can't wait. I shall give you a hand again and make lassi.”

Ann giggled. “Lassi doesn’t go well with pumpkin pies.” 

“What goes well with pumpkin pies?”

“Um, milk? Hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate!” Lister’s voice came out slightly louder than intended. “Yes, I can make us hot chocolate.”

With a teasing raise of her brow, Ann stared up at her. “Are we dancing now?”

Lister realised that indeed they were, rocking their bodies together. The tempo of the sonata was rather quick and jaunty. Their lazy movements were out of rhythm. But she didn’t care. 

“I was actually a good dancer when I was in my twenties,” Lister said. She made Ann twirl once, pulling her back into her arms, their chests flush against each other. “Lucky you never saw me then. I would’ve made you swoon, and you never would’ve recovered.”

Ann pressed her lips against hers. “I have no doubt, tipsy lady.”

"Hmm. This is so much funner than tonight’s gala. I think you should come with me to the parties, sometimes if not all the time, to keep me from dying of boredom."

A tiny grimace crept across Ann’s face. "Oh, I don't know. I would be so out of place you wouldn't know what to do with me."

"You know I hate it when you belittle yourself like that," Lister said in a soft voice.

"Sorry."

"It's important to expand your network. Who knows? You could meet the patron of your life.”

The sonata faded out, replaced by another one. It was Adagio or something, Lister wasn’t sure, as the tempo was slower, more suitable for the swaying of their bodies. 

“It’s not an implausible story,” Lister said. “A promising artist meets someone under unusual circumstances, someone who comes off as crude and uncultured, but turns out to be the biggest supporter, turning their life upside-down overnight. I’m sure there’s a film like that. Jackson Pollock, too. I read somewhere that he didn’t get much of recognition until one renowned critic praised his work. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. You are going to meet someone like that, too. I’ll make sure of it, yeah?”

But Ann didn’t give her a quick response. She just smiled up at Lister, amusement spread all across her face.

The gentle sense of joy was contagious. “What?”

With an unfaltering smile, Ann shook her head. 

“Go on. What is it?”

“You don’t want to hear.”

Lister hooked her fingers under Ann’s chin and tilted her head up. “I might surprise you. Hmm?”

Still, Ann shook her head softly. “Not yet.”

A little later that evening, Lister finally fixed the grandfather’s clock on the landing. And when she crashed into bed, Ann gave her a spare house key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 2.
> 
> So, I have another long-ass WIP alongside this one (because why wouldn't I want to suffer?) And there is a line from its penultimate chapter that I'm uber proud of, and I couldn't resist the temptation to share with y'all. 👇 
> 
> "Your love is worth the damned fear of losing it. And I'll make sure to spend every day for the rest of my life making you know that my love is worth it, too.”
> 
> And this is the kind of Emotional Shite™️ you should also expect from Part 3 of this story 😈


	14. She promised to teach me embroidery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst train has arrived! Choo choo 🚂💨  
٩( ᐛ )و Party time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: character death, arseholey & clownery
> 
> Also, my heart goes out to those in the UK. If you need happy distractions, this story isn't it. Take care of yourself 💚

The phone rang at an ungodly hour in the dead of night. In her dream, Lister felt Ann slip out of her embrace and heard the ringtone stop. But soon, fatigue pulled her back into unconsciousness. 

Her alarm went off at five. Lister got up and noticed, for the first time, the absence of Ann in the bed. On her side of the bed lay Argus, who was not allowed in the bedroom, drooling onto Ann’s pillow in peace. The rain was beating against the French windows. It would be a swimming-at-her-flat day. Throwing on her comfy clothes, she dragged her feet to the bathroom, but it was also empty. 

Strange. Ann never got up before her in the morning.

“Adney?” Lister saw the bedroom door was left ajar, then. She walked out.

Out in the dim hallway, her eye was immediately caught by the silhouette of Ann, sitting on top of the stairs with her back facing Lister. Something was wrong. Lister called out and, when no response came, walked up to her with tentative steps. 

Her cheeks were wet. The skin seemed drained of blood. In her pale hands was her smartphone.

Lister walked down a couple of steps to come face to face with her. “What’s wrong? How long have you been here?”

But the eyes of Ann looked devoid of light, out of focus. 

“Ann.” Lister cupped her icy cheek with her hand.

The contact made her flinch as if Lister had appeared out of thin air now. 

“What happened?” Lister said again.

Ann looked around, down at the phone in her grip, and back at Lister. “Elizabeth…”

“Elizabeth who? Your sister? What about her?” But Lister saw Ann fade away behind the glassy eyes again. She cupped her cheeks more firmly. “No. Ann, look at me. What happened to Elizabeth?”

“She died,” Ann said, almost in an automatic way. Then, tears welled up in her eyes. “They said she died. Elizabeth— They said her boat sank in Naples. She was trying to save a child. They said— She—” She cradled her head in her hands. The phone slipped out of her hands, falling down the stairs with heavy thuds, almost in sync with her sobbing.

Nothing came to Lister’s mind right away. But a moment later, she managed to collect herself and sat beside Ann, pulling her into an embrace and swaying their bodies together. Ann held onto her as if Lister too would disappear from her life if she didn’t. The sound of rain chilled their bodies to the bone. No words Lister could offer would be satisfactory in that moment. So, she pressed her lips softly against Ann’s temple. They sat there until Ann’s tears subsided. 

Lister then helped her return to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. 

“Stay with me today.” Ann tugged at Lister’s sleeve. “Don’t go to work.”

The desperation in her voice clenched its fist around Lister heart, and she recoiled at that sensation. “I’ll take the morning off, but I would have to go to the office in the afternoon. I have meetings I can’t miss.”

“But I can’t—”

“Only for three or four hours, and I’ll come right back.”

Tears leaked from the corner of Ann’s eyes again, but she said no more. Lister lay with her in the arms, the dog following suit and curling up at their feet. She felt her own neck grow damp with Ann’s tears. The sound of her sobbing, so close to Lister’s ear, drowned out the tattoo of rain outside. 

“I only talked to her two days ago.” Ann’s voice was barely audible. “We made plans for the holidays. She promised to teach me embroidery. No. No—” She buried her face deeper in Lister’s neck. “She’s only thirty-nine. She’s only—” The rest was incomprehensible. 

Tightening her embrace was the only thing Lister could do.

A sunken boat, had Ann said? No, Lister didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to drive to the ocean. 

For the next two hours or so, Ann drifted between sleep and wakefulness, jerking awake with her eyes already filled with tears. She would looked around, disoriented and devastated, and would mumble things as she held onto Lister. 

In this condition, Lister took care of emails and read news articles to the best of her ability. Without her morning exercise and tea, it was easy to fall into the temptation to close her eyes and go back to sleep. But she resisted it. Argus began to grow restless from hunger past six o’clock. Lister got up, careful not to disturb Ann’s sleep, went downstairs to feed him, and after that, worked at the bedside table instead of returning to the bed.

At eight-thirty, she texted Eugénie,_ Will be late. Any important meetings? _

**Eugénie PA:** Luncheon with Mr. & Mrs. Priestleys at 11. Video conference with the Pascoe squad at 14.

Pascoe squad was the one Lister called the Noodle Four. Not to say meetings with them were of little importance, but they could wait if necessary. The Priestleys, on the other hand, required Lister’s attention today, because she could only cancel their lunch or dinner or whatever so many times before incurring the wrath of Mrs. Priestley. 

_ Won’t miss the luncheon _ , she texted Eugénie. _ Not sure if I could come in any earlier. Address of the restaurant just in case, please. _

Lister looked over to Ann, who did not stir any longer. It seemed like she had finally sunken deeper into sleep. Lister hoped she wasn’t having a nightmare that might wake her up again.

A little past nine o’clock, Lister changed into her suit and combed her hair back. A sense of restlessness harassed her. She had taken care of everything she could from home, and the rest needed her to be in the office, to actually be on the front line. She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes past nine. Her people were starting the day at the headquarters.

Standing by the bed, she watched the rise and fall of Ann’s chest. Her blonde hair on the temple area was one shade darker, tears having formed a damp patch on the pillow. Her fingers held the edge of the blanket in a loose grip even in her sleep. Lister reached out for her cheek, but stopped herself. Instead, she pulled the blankets over her shoulder, said goodbye to Argus, and quietly left the house. 

…

In her office, she willed her brain to focus on work, but found it impossible. Words on paper became mere combinations of indecipherable symbols before her eyes. Diagrams in reports might as well have been childish doodles. Spoken words entered her ears and tangled themselves into knots inside her head. She had thought her productivity would spring back to life once away from Ann. But no. It had gotten worse if anything. Too many thoughts raced through her mind, but all of them eluded her grip like ghosts. 

In an attempt to get her thoughts in order, she opened her journal. But again, the pages remained blank. There were only hesitant dots of ink where she pressed the tip of her fountain pen, but lifted it soon afterwards. 

She had no appetite at the luncheon, either. It felt as if her body didn’t have a stomach in the first place. The smoked salmon at her favourite restaurant only induced nausea. She focused on the movement of Mrs. Priestley’s lips as she chatted away. It was a one-woman talk show, and Mr. Priestley was a ventriloquist dummy whose only job was to nod occasionally. Everything felt like a dream. 

“Is everything alright, Anne?” Mrs. Priestley said.

Lister affected a smile and leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs. “What makes you say that, Eliza?”

The married couple exchanged a look. Mrs. Priestley said, “Well, we were just saying, we don’t know which to choose for the holidays, adventures in Guatemala or the sublime scenery of _Toscana_. Of course, we visited Toscana back in April, but we can never get enough of that place, can we, William?”

Mr. Priestley twisted his lips into a smile, forbearing whatever opinion he had. 

“Yes,” Lister said, “it’s a beautiful place, indeed.”

“What are your plans, Anne?” Mrs. Priestley said. “You must be in terrible need of a getaway, considering what tumultuous year you’ve had.”

The question brought back the promise she’d made with Ann. Spending Christmas with her sister in Edinburgh. Obviously, that would be off now. “It hasn’t been decided yet.”

“You need to get out of the city, you know. You deserve it.”

Lister snickered. “Yes, I do. Truly. That’s why I have this trip to the states, don’t I? Never mind Ainsworth.”

But this trip, too, might not go as planned. It was only less than a month away. That might not be enough time for Ann to regain her sense of equilibrium, and if it turned out correct, Ann might not want to travel with her anymore. And there was another problem— Lister didn’t know if she could feel disappointed if Ann decided not to come. 

The rational—and decent—thing to do was, she knew, to stay with Ann and offer her as much support she needed. She knew that. But Anne Lister was not equipped to cope with grief, either of herself or other people’s. The image of Ann’s glossy eyes flashed across her mind many times during the day. And the prospect of the madness that always accompanied it triggered a fight-or-flight response and made her queasy.

Before the meeting with the Noodle Four at two in the afternoon, she texted Ann to check up on her. When the meeting ended after an hour, however, Ann still hadn’t responded. She hadn’t even read the message. Lister reckoned she was asleep, and took the opportunity to stay in the office a little longer, staring at the computer screen. It was easy to lose track of time thankfully, with the sun already hidden by the grey clouds. 

Big Ben tolled at five. Only then did she rise from her seat. She went to the alcohol cabinet, poured whiskey to the brim, downed it in one gulp, and poured herself another. Then, she plodded along home, waiting for the walk signal at every zebra crossing, waiting for the liquor to hit her. 

… 

The moment Lister stepped into the house, a storm struck her.

“Where have you been!?” Ann came sprinting down the hall and, without losing the momentum, wrapped her arms around Lister’s neck. Her face was soaked with tears. “I woke up, and you weren’t there. Why did you go without telling me?”

Lister struggled to support the weight of her. “I didn’t want to wake you. You had finally fallen asleep.”

“I thought you were gone forever. I thought you’d gotten fed up with me.” 

“I would never.” Lister cupped her cheeks and looked into her bloodshot eyes. “Oh, Ann. You could’ve called me, you know. I would’ve come straight back. I texted you—”

“I couldn’t find my phone!” Ann wailed harder.

With some effort, Lister managed to move her to the living room after a while, and calmed her down slightly. 

Ann’s phone was found in the middle of the turning stairs, propped up against the wall where the stair changed its direction. It had been there since the morning, Lister supposed. 

The impact of the fall had cracked the pink plastic case in the corner. The screen itself seemed undamaged. She turned it on to see if it wasn't broken, and saw a picture of her and Ann on the lock screen. One of the first selfies they had taken in the park. They looked happy together. They had been happy together. Only a couple of months ago, but it felt like a distant past. 

What was it that Ann had said about the ephemeralness of life and human experience? _ It is significant while it lasts. _ But Lister found herself feeling cynical. How could she have accepted it? Such rubbish. Whoever had implanted that idea in Ann’s mind first, they were probably trying to convince themself so, too. So they wouldn't have to despair at the fragility of it all and lose their mind. 

Back in the living room, Ann was huddling on the couch. Exhausted from the earlier outburst, she switched between biting her nails off and picking at her chapped lips. She looked small. Argus sat with her on the couch, with his face on her feet and an anxious furrow on his brow that made him look more human than the actual humans present. 

Lister gave the phone back to her. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

Ann shook her head.

Lister checked the inside of the fridge, but found it almost empty. They had talked about going grocery shopping the previous night. She took her phone out as she went back to Ann. “There isn’t any food. I should contact my personal chef to see if she could come in.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s because your brain is occupied with something else. Your body still needs food, alright?” Lister searched for her contact info.

Ann remained silent for several seconds, “You were doing the same to yourself. You made excuses and neglected your health. Why can’t I do the same, then?” Her voice, though quiet, had an unmistakable note of spitefulness.

Lister was too sober for this. “Because you’re not me. That’s why.” Her tone came out a little too harsh. She felt a pang of guilt.

Her chef, Mrs. Cordingley, agreed to the request on such short notice. After texting her the address of the house, Lister returned to Ann and knelt before her. 

“Mrs. Cordingley is coming to cook for us. How does bean risotto sound? She makes wonderful risotto. Maybe she’ll share her recipes with you, hmm?” 

Ann didn’t respond.

Lister made attempts at eye contact and to hold her hand, but Ann rejected both, hugging her knees more tightly. Giving up, Lister made Argus move and sat next to her. “Do you want to talk about her?”

In silence, the grandfather’s clock on the landing chimed. No word came out of either of their mouths as the chiming faded out. Lister waited long after that, despite her inner voice telling her every second to just drop the subject. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it.

At last, Ann raised her head slightly. “She was… the only family I’ve had since our parents had died. She’s always cared for me, helped me fight my darkness, even after she got married and moved away. She was the first person I ever came out to, and the first to accept me.” Tears again started streaming down her face as she looked at Lister. “Why? Why did she have to go?”

The intensity of her sorrow punched Lister in the gut. She looked away and instead pulled her into her arms.

Still, Ann remained in the same fetal position. “Now, I’m truly alone.”

“You are not alone, Ann. You still—” _ Still have me,_ Lister wanted to say, but couldn’t. 

How could she? She had no right to offer such words, when she was on the precipice of yielding to her impulse to run away.

They sat in silence, drowning in their respective sorrows. As the sun set—oblivious or merciless towards their agony—Lister watched the outline of Ann’s body grow obscure right under her nose, by the minute, in the dark room. She could do nothing. Their bodies were together as one. But Lister felt herself drifting apart.

Would she have time to drive to the sea tomorrow? How about the day after? If only she could just spend five minutes there—

The clock on the landing chimed again. And Mrs. Cordingley came at last. Lister showed her to the kitchen and, as her chef began to cook, lingered about there. 

“How are your kids, Mrs. Cordingley?” she said, feeding Argus.

Her chef looked surprised, but smiled. “Oh, they’re alright. How have you been?”

Lister could only nod.

“I’m glad you texted. I was starting to wonder if I had been made redundant.” 

“Of course, not. You are the only chef for me,” Lister said. “Except, if it was your income that you were concerned about—”

“No, no. You’ve always paid me homesomely. I could support my family without working for probably three months.” Mrs. Cordingley chuckled before raising her eyes from the chopping board. “It’s just that I’ve been worried sick about you. I often wondered at dinner time if you were eating alright. But you look well-fed, Miss Lister. Somebody’s been taking good care of you.” 

A sigh fell from her lips. “Could you come in every evening, just like before, but here? For two people. I’ll pay double, of course.”

“Don’t you worry. Of course, I’ll cook for you and your friend,” Mrs. Cordingley said without a grimace. “Do they have any allergies?”

“No— I don’t know. I don’t think so. Let me go ask her.”

Lister returned to the living room, where Ann was lying on the couch and staring into space. Lister crouched down before her. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she said, stroking her hair. “Mrs. Cordingley wants to know if you have any food allergies so she could cook for us every evening until you feel better.”

Ann moved her head slightly.

“Is that a no?” Lister said. “You don’t have any allergies?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Lister tried to meet her gaze again, but with no success. “It already smells amazing, doesn’t it? Mrs. Cordingley’s cooking has magical power. It can make you feel better in an instant.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, but you must eat. Even just one bite is better than none.”

And after Mrs. Cordingley had left, Ann had exactly two spoonfuls of the risotto. One at the beginning of the meal as Lister urged it, and the other one ten minutes after the first. She would have no more. Lister herself, in truth, didn’t have much of appetite. But in order to maintain her facade of strength, she downed the food at record speed without giving her stomach the time to refuse any of it.

Day One was always the hardest, she told herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this chapter has been tough to write! (But not for the reasons you might think, Mr. Rawson.) Ann is deep in grief, and Lister doesn't know what to do. They don't talk much, and it's so HARD to drive the scenes forward without dialogue! Wtf! So, who knows, the updates might be more sporadic now. 🤷 
> 
> Also, I just spent two days writing a New Year's Eve one-shot. Pure fluff. There'll be none of the angst or clownery. Will be posted on new year's eve :)))


	15. Too much homemade cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> second day of agony :)

In the morning, Lister slipped out of the bed and took Argus for a run into the drizzle. She took the route on the outer perimeter of the park three times, faster and faster, until the commixture of rain and sweat dripped from the tip of her hair. Argus looked like a wet mop. 

They went back home, dried themselves, and while Argus had breakfast, Lister took a shower. Ann hadn’t woken up when she snuck into the bedroom for a change of clothes. The breakfast time was quiet, only the smell of her morning tea and the clicking noise of the cup against the table. And fifteen minutes earlier than usual, she left for work. No waking Ann to say goodbye.

Ann would probably go into another crying hysteria for this. But Lister had an inkling that, if she had woken her, Ann would’ve begged her to stay with her like yesterday. And they would’ve had to go through the unnecessary heartbreak. 

The answer would always be ‘I can’t.’

She put her personal phone in silent mode in the office, and refused to look at it until noon. Only during lunch break did she give it a one-over. To her relief, there was no text or call from Ann. There was, however, a text from Marian, sent a couple of hours ago.

**Piglet:** Is everything okay with Ann? She hasn’t read my texts for the last two days.

Lister stared at the message for some moments and reluctantly texted back, _ Her sister passed away yesterday. _

As soon as the message had gone through, her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Marian’s distraught voice already rang in her ears, giving her a constricting pain in the head. 

She accepted it. “Marian.”

“Her sister? Elizabeth, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Drowned. Her boat sank in Naples.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Marian said in a mumble. “Are you alright?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

Short silence of mutual understanding passed between them. Lister felt pathetic, but didn’t know any other way of answering this damned question. 

“How are father and aunt?” Lister said.

“They are fine. You forgot about his birthday again, but they are— Oh, _ Anne _.”

“I’m alright. Stop using that tone, Jesus Christ.” 

“But, Anne—”

Lister sprang from her chair. “I’m extremely occupied at the moment, Marian,” she said, pacing around. “Lots of work to do around the office. So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you not bothering me so. Allocate your empathy to Ann. I don’t need it. And do not ever think about telling them about this.”

She hung up the phone, shoved it deep in her bag, and plopped back down in the chair. The face of Marian appeared before her mind’s eye, blinking rapidly as she always did when close to tears. Lister blew that image away with a puff of air and returned to work. 

But the problem was that, the more she buried herself in work, the more quickly time passed by. The clock on the desk read one-thirty, and the next time she glanced at it, it read four. It was almost time to go home. She dreaded it. She wished time would freeze, even if it meant being stuck in this agony forever.

After leaving the headquarters, she made a stop at a flower shop and a Godiva shop downtown. With the gifts in her hands, she walked home. 

As Ann’s house grew closer, a figure on the doorstep caught her eye. 

“Mrs. Cordingley. How are you?”

Her chef looked at her. “Thank goodness, you are here, Miss Lister. I was worried sick. Thought something had happened to you.” At her feet were her eco bags filled with vegetables and food packages. 

“How do you mean?” Lister scurried up the stairs and unlocked the door.

They walked in. Argus came dashing to greet both of them.

“Well, nobody was answering the door,” Mrs. Cordingley said. “And I didn’t have a key to let myself in.”

Too caught up in the whirlwind, Lister had totally neglected to bear that in mind “I’ll make you a spare key.” 

“It’s alright. You just scared me a bit, that’s all. I gave you a bell multiple times.”

Lister rummaged through her briefcase and found her private phone. On the screen were notifications of several missed calls from Mrs. Cordingley and Ann, and more texts from Ann.

**Miss Walker:** Call me.

**Miss Walker:** I'm sorry I said mean things to you yesterday. 

**Miss Walker: **Are you busy?

**Miss Walker:** I’m sorry I couldn’t make you lunch this morning. Call me when you can.

Mrs. Cordingley looked into the fridge, taking out the tupperware of yesterday’s risotto. “There’s still a ton of this left, Miss Lister. Would you still like me to cook?”

Indeed, the tupperware was full. It appeared that Ann hadn’t eaten at all. 

“Yes, please,” Lister said.

She then tiptoed up the stairs, through the hallway, and opened the bedroom door a crack, letting in a thin strip of light. Ann seemed to be asleep now, curled up on Lister’s side of the bed. Careful not to make a sound, Lister closed the door and returned downstairs. She put the flower bouquet in a vase. 

Within an hour, Mrs. Cordingley finished cooking and left the house. Argus let out whimpers in front of the closed door for a while. Lister let him be, busy deciding whether to wake Ann up. She would have to get Ann to eat at one point in the evening. That much she knew. Did it have to be now, though?

But shortly after Mrs. Cordingley’s departure, the upstairs floor creaked. Ann came downstairs, taking one step at a time, blinking her puffy eyes. As soon as she found Lister at the bottom of the staircase, she began to sob and jumped into her arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Ann said against Lister’s chest. “Anne, I’m sorry I kept bothering you at work. I knew you were busy. I wanted to hear your voice just for a second. I’m so sorry.”

Lister caressed her head. “You don’t need to apologise.” 

“Please, don’t be cross.”

“I’m not cross, Ann.” Lister held back her sigh and pressed her lips against her cheek. “Here, Mrs. Cordingley made us soup. Let us eat, yeah?” By the hand, she led Ann into the dining room. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you haven’t eaten anything today, have you? I bought you Godiva, too. You love Godiva. And look, fresh flowers.” 

Ann threw a disinterested glance at the centerpiece. Lister pulled a chair out for her, poured the soup into bowls, and served it to Ann. But with her hands still on her lap, Ann only stared into the bowl. 

“Go on,” Lister said, standing next to her. “Pick up the spoon. Just one spoonful, for me?”

Ann did as commanded, but after the first spoonful, she put down her spoon. 

“Another one, please?” Lister said.

Like this, Lister managed to have her eat two more, showering her with encouraging words. “Not so difficult, is it? Can you go for another?”

Ann did. Then, her eyes welled up. “She once burned my pan when she came to visit me. She was on her phone and forgot to set the timer, and the pan burned with the chicken in it. I teased her for it for weeks.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “She must’ve thought I was angry. She must’ve thought I valued the pan more than—”

“Ann.” Lister went to kneel down by her side. “Of course, she didn’t—”

“I didn’t tell her I loved her when I hung up the phone. I didn’t— She must despise me.”

“She knew you loved her. Ann—”

“We only had each other. But I never—”

“Ann, stop!” Lister raised her voice slightly. She hadn’t meant to, so she took Ann’s hands with extra gentleness. “I know you’re sad, and you’re angry with yourself, with life, with Elizabeth. But you cannot blame yourself like this.” She couldn’t look into Ann’s eye, feeling tears prick her eyes. “You’re a good person, Ann. Your sister knows it.”

The expression on Ann’s face looked devoid of any emotions. 

Lister gave a forced smile. “Hmm, you had enough of the soup. Do you want to watch a movie together? You can teach me about Harry Potter like the last time. Come now.” She pulled Ann up and guided her to the living room.

In the dark room, Ann sank down onto the couch. Lister switched on the lamp by the couch, turned on the telle, searched for the Harry Potter series on a streaming service, and played the forth one. She spread a throw blanket over Ann’s lap. After a caress on her cheek, Lister gave her a kiss on the crown of her head. 

“I’ll be right back. I’ve got to clear the table, alright?”

On the dining table, her own bowl of soup still had a lot left in it. Lister sat down and washed it down with a generous amount of wine. She put the dishes in the dishwasher as she poured herself another glass. 

Day Two was almost over. Better than Day One, surely. Ann had eaten more than she had the previous day. Not so difficult. She could do this. 

With the wine glass and a box of chocolate, she straightened her back and marched back to Ann. Merry music from the film welcomed her. The flickering light from the telle screen reflected off Ann’s face. On her cheeks were lines of tears, shimmering.

“Chocolate?” Lister sat next to her, holding the box in front of her face. "Which reminds me”—she placed the box beside the lamp as Ann showed no interest—“I promised Mrs. Cordingley a spare key. I can’t always be here to let her in, and you may not always be awake to do so. I hope it’s alright with you?”

Ann gave a subtle nod.

“Marian is worried about you, too. Perhaps you could text her later, if you'd like." 

But to this, Ann remained unresponsive. Argus, with a whimper, rested his face on her blanketed lap, and only then did she react and give him a scratch behind his ear. “I have to work. I have a deadline at the end of the month.”

“You don’t need to push yourself. Explain the situation to your client. If they don’t understand, I’ll make them.”

Ann squeezed her eyes tightly, touching her forehead. Almost inaudible hisses escaped her as if her internal conversation was leaking. “She loved Cedric,” she said at last.

“What?”

“I don’t understand.” 

“What don’t you understand?” 

“How can a person exist one moment and disappear the next?” Ann said. “My parents. Elizabeth. They all left me all of a sudden. I never understood that.” 

Lister didn’t have an answer to offer. She enveloped her in an embrace instead, and slowly peppered her face and neck with tender kisses. 

“It’s death…” Ann trembled. “It always frightens me. Always. I never get used to it."

"It's not something to get used to."

“Why does being good matter if I can’t be strong?” Ann said under her breath. “I wish I was strong like you were."

Lister no longer knew if she could do this.

…

But there was no way out now even if she wished for it. She was a fish in the nets, completely trapped. The more she struggled to get free, the more she got tangled.

Ann’s appetite saw no change in the following days. No matter how Lister tried to persuade her, Ann never had more than five bites or spoonfuls. Every time, she would put down her cutlery as if her arm couldn’t endure any more exertion. Lister stopped pushing her eventually. There was no better option. And she would have breakfast and dinner alone in the quiet dining room, and would flinch internally at the creaking sound of the upstairs floor over her head. 

It soon became necessary to ask Mrs. Cordingley to cook one serving a day. Only four days after welcoming her back. After all these months, Lister hated to ask her to take more time off again. It was still too much, though. Tupperwares slowly piled up in the fridge, so many that it amused Lister to know Ann had this many of them. 

There was only so much Lister could eat by herself. As a last resort, she took some of them to her office. 

"Eugénie, you eat meat, don’t you? Ann made too much roast chicken last night.” She placed the tupperware on the assistant’s desk. 

“Thank you, ma’am. Please send my—”

“She would probably do the same tonight. Expect more tomorrow.” 

Eugénie mumbled her another ‘thank you, ma’am.’ “Oh, Mrs. Lawton has called. She wants to know if she could come in tomorrow, and if so, what time would be convenient for you.”

“Mrs. Lawton? Why?” Lister said. “I mean, why is she asking? Why an appointment?”

“You told her to make one when she visited last time, when we were leaving for, uh, a meeting in Soho.”

Though Lister couldn’t recall it, she didn’t want to exert herself to search her memory. “Fine. No, let her come in anytime she pleases.” She went back into her office, only to poke her head around the door again. “What kind of gifts do you want when you feel like you’re at rock bottom?”

In an apparent panic, Eugénie stuttered as she reached for her pen and notepad. “Um, chocolates?”

“No.”

“Oh. Uh… I don’t know. A new bag? New shoes? Yes, new shoes.”

Lister pondered on it, and without another word, returned inside.

A couple of hours later, a rich aroma of the herbal roast chicken came wafting into the office. It only gave Lister a knot in the stomach. She kept working. It had never been her habit to eat lunch in the first place. Anyway, her stomach had to remain empty so she could set an example for Ann at dinner.

That reminded her of the spare key she had promised Mrs. Cordingley. Taking her keys out of the bag, she unhooked Ann’s house key from the bunch and opened the door.

Eugénie choked on a piece of chicken.

Liser didn’t pay any heed to it. “I need you to run to a keysmith to make a spare key.” She put the key in front of her assistant before waving at her lunch. “Whenever you’re done with it.”

Afterwards, she surfed the web looking at Louboutins and Manolo Blahniks between meetings, mountains of important documents put aside. These high heels looked good. Some looked undeniably gorgeous. But what kind of shoes Ann did prefer? Ann received everything Lister bought her with genuine—or so Lister believed—delight and gratitude. It was hard to know Ann's true taste in things. 

It's the thought that counts, they say. Well, Lister had always deemed that assertion foolish, and still stood by it. Things like this had never been an issue with Mariana. New jewelry or Lister’s attention, that woman always knew what she wanted and never hesitated to let it be known. In retrospect, everything looked so easy with Mariana.

_ I should buy her new jewelry _, Lister thought. That would lift her spirits.

Still in the dark as to what to get Ann, however. One of the dearest people in her life had passed away. Material objects couldn't possibly cheer her up.

Lister left the office at four-thirty, but headed in the opposite direction from home. Standing at a zebra crossing, she checked her private phone. Multiple messages from Ann and one from Marian, both requesting that Lister call them. With greatest reluctance, she rang Marian and hoped to make it short.

“Hel—”

“Could you not text me every bloody day?” Lister said.

Marian let out a puff of air, chewing something. She swallowed. “Am I not allowed to worry about my own sister?” 

“Only when you have a reason to.” The walking signal changed to green. Lister resumed her trudge. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

On the other end of the line, Marian made a strange noise. “Yeah, that… I may or may not have let it slip to auntie.”

“What?”

“And I overheard her telling it to dad half an hour after I’d told her to keep her mouth shut, so… Yeah, the whole house knows.”

“Then, tell them that you were mistaken, that it was a product of your vivid imagination that had resulted from eating too much homemade cheese or something. I’m fine.”

“Like they’re going to believe that—”

“And don’t ever let them give me a bell, alright? I really don’t have time for them.” Lister was about to hang up, but stopped as a duffle coat in the shop window caught her eye. She brought her phone back to her ear. “Hey, do you know if there’s anything Ann wants in particular?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. She’s less materialistic than I am.” Marian bit into something, the loud sound of her chomping echoing on the line. 

“You like having things,” Lister said.

“That’s what I said. She’s less—”

“No idea, then?”

There was a pause. In a more serious tone, Marian said, “The best you can do right now is to be with her, you know. Buy her expensive shite all you want, but—”

“Fine. I’ve got to go.” And this time, Lister did hang up on her. She glared up at the red duffle coat on a mannequin striking a condescending pose. 

To be with her. As if Marian didn’t know Lister knew that. As if she didn’t know Lister couldn’t.

… 

At home, Mrs. Cordingley was already cooking in the kitchen. Lister went through the mail in the familiar sound of a knife on the chopping board, expecting to find a funeral invitation. But it had not come. 

Given the circumstances of her death, the body must be still in Italy. Retrieving the body if not found already, investigating the accident, dealing with the maze of red tape in order to get her body back home. If Lister’s memory served her correctly, it might take more than two weeks to hold a funeral.

And a big question popped up in her mind. Who was in charge of all this? Ann had said they didn’t have any other family members, but Ann didn’t seem to be doing any sort of paperwork. It must be Elizabeth’s husband, then. Still, if that was the case, why wasn’t Ann cooperating with him? Had he asked her? Had Ann refused it? Lister didn’t know anything, but didn’t want to aggravate the situation by bringing it up, either. 

Among the mail, however, there was an envelope. Her Majesty’s Passport Office, it said on the front side. Ann’s new passport. Lister stared down at it before placing it on the table. She would not bring up the topic.

Ann was awake, working in the studio with the protective gloves on. The room lights were on, but low. Lister turned them up, and heard Ann let out a quiet yelp. As Ann took off her earphones, Lister walked up and gave her kisses on the cheek and lips. 

“You scared me,” Ann said.

“Hmm.” Lister pressed her lips to her forehead. “Look, I got you something nice.” 

She led Ann to the armchair and sat first, guiding her onto her lap. The weight of Ann’s body had an undeniable lightness. She placed a shopping bag in Ann’s ungloved hands, and kept her eyes fixed on Ann’s face as Ann opened it.

The gift came out of the bag. A touch of delightful surprise appeared across her lips, then. “Oh, Anne.” She ran her hand over the sleeve of the light blue cashmere coat. 

“I saw this,” Lister said, “and thought of you. The color matches your eyes.”

“I already have a lot of winter coats,” Ann said with an undertone of apology.

Lister offered a smile. “One can never have too many good clothes. I’m ordering a bunch of Ruby Roman, too. Do you remember? The Japanese grapes we had in the office? They should arrive in a few days.” 

But the look of delight had already faded away, replaced by a crease between her brows. “I’m sorry, Anne.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying so hard. But this thing”—Ann pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead—“this thing keeps coming back. It hijacks my brain, and it makes me cry. I can’t stop it.”

“It takes time. Don’t work yourself too hard like that.”

“I know you don’t want to be with me like this.”

With her fingers hooked under Ann’s chin, Lister made her meet her eyes. “Do you really think so? Don’t you think I would’ve left you yesterday had I really wanted to?” She stared into her eyes, tried to stare past them. “I don’t expect you to act like nothing happened.” But heat began to gather behind her eyes. She nuzzled Ann’s neck, hiding from her. “Take your time. I will be here with you.”

Ann’s arms came around her neck, her tears soaking the skin below her ear. The coat slid down her lap, got caught by the arm of the chair for a moment, and fell to the ground. The occasional sniffling sound of Ann filled the room. With the sound right in her ear, Lister focused on the wire work of her sculpture a couple of metres away. It seemed to have a more recognisable shape than before, with a little tail and four legs touching the ground. 

After a while, a faint spicy aroma came wafting from downstairs.

“I think dinner is ready,” Lister said. “I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry? What time did you eat last?”

Ann rose her face, her eyelashes glistening. “I just woke up an hour ago. Captain Sutherland came to pick up some old pictures for the…” The end of the sentence was a sigh.

“Who?”

“Captain Sutherland. Elizabeth’s husband.” Ann’s voice cracked and trembled. “He asked me to write a… a eulogy.”

It really was the husband who was in charge.

“Right. Okay,” Lister said. “I’ll help you write it. But right now, let us eat. The first meal of the day for you, isn’t it? Even more important, then.”

“I have to work. I’m not hungry.”

Lister faked a patient smile. “Your body believes so because you keep saying that. Your client can wait. Come on, let’s go downstairs.” Taking Ann’s hand, she was going to stand up when Ann winced.

Her teary eyes fell upon their connected hands. Lister followed the gaze and found something on Ann’s right hand. A few small cuts on her palm and fingers, and bloody smudges around these cuts. 

“What is this? What happened?” Lister said.

Ann traced the injuries with her index finger, pressing down, as though they were not her own lacerations. “I was being careless. I pricked myself with the barbed wire.” Her eyes and voice had a detached sense of curiosity. 

Lister decided to believe her, despite her own anxiety, that it really had been an accident. Taking Ann’s other hand in a gentle manner, Lister stopped Ann from picking at the cuts. “Promise to be more careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.” She brought her hand to her lips and kissed the back of it.

A sigh fell from Ann’s lips. Their eyes met, followed by a chaste meeting of their lips. When they separated, Ann’s hand rose to Lister’s neck. She looked at her with the slightest tilt of the head that Lister had come to understand as her way of asking for more. Their lips found each other again. Into the kiss Ann moaned, the vibration of it reaching Lister’s throat, while her grip on Lister’s shoulder tightened. Her hips began to gyrate in an almost imperceptible motion. 

“We should have dinner,” Lister said.

Ann wrapped her arms around her neck. “Here. I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

Without a word, Lister felt wet kisses planted on the side of her neck. She tried to make both of them get to their feet. That only prompted Ann to whine and hold on to her more tightly.

“Only moving us to the bedroom, okay?” Lister said, making Ann get off her lap. 

In the bedroom, Lister took the working overalls off Ann and lay her down. Her ribs and hipbones were a little more prominent than before, jagged to the touch. She kissed her injured hand, kissed her on the lips, and kissed her on the heart. 

As if to compensate for the last few days of no sex, Ann demanded her hunger and thirst to be appeased. 

“Stay inside me,” she said when Lister was about to pull her fingers out. She hugged her closer and sucked on Lister’s upper lip. “Stay.”

And her hips would move again, insatiable, demanding more of Lister’s touch. They went on like this until well past midnight, until Ann fell asleep on top of Lister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! HOHO HEY HO! 🎩🎅⛄


	16. Take one capsule at a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad sex? In my fic? More likely than you think.

This was what her life had come to. Drowning herself in work in order to flee from the problems at home, but being unable to make the big decision to actually take flight. Watching Ann sink into the water of depression, knowing fully well the consequences of not letting go of her hand. Never in her most miserable dreams had she imagined a life like this. 

A pushover. That was what she had become. One of those pathetic knob-heads who fell asleep in their office, during a meeting. 

With her head rested on the back of her chair, she sat facing the floor-to-ceiling window while people spoke behind her. The landscape was mundane and dull, but by far more intriguing than the conversation. The trees at the Palace, looking like greyish fissures in the ground, swayed in the wind. People's voices turned into background noise. The cash balance, the inventory, investments... The best current estimate is this… What are your opinions… Lister closed her eyes to rest them as her chair hugged her whole body. Someone was calling her name.

“Miss Lister?” 

Lister jerked awake, her heart pounding, and saw Washington peering into her face from the side of her desk. 

“Is everything okay?” he said in a whisper.

With a faint nod, Lister sat up and fixed her high collar of her shirt. She swiveled the chair around to scowl at the men sitting in front of the TV screen across the room. “I swear to whatever god you believe in, Mr. Kumar, your pitiable rigmarole will someday be very useful for putting down the wildest horse without chemical injection.”

The men mumbled half-hearted apologies.

“The meeting is over,” she said. “I don’t have any more time to waste, gentlemen. Come back with more solid propositions.”

They rose from the couch, gathering their belongings before shuffling out of the office at the speed of an intoxicated snail. They exchanged unsubtle looks. There was going to be major complaining later, but it was none of her business. Washington, too, at the tail of the line, seemed to have questions, but simply bowed his head. Lister waved him off and watched him leave. 

How humiliating. Dozing off in front of people—her people—like that. The ten-minute power nap before the meeting hadn’t been enough, it seemed, or the one she had taken when she’d arrived at work in the morning, or the ten or twenty cups of tea she had consumed. 

More caffeine was the answer. She’d had an affair with an ER doctor once, who took caffeine tablets to endure her long shifts. It was worth a try. Typing at her keyboard, Lister searched for them online.

The intercom beeped. “Mrs. Lawton is here to see you, ma’am.”

Lister rubbed her face and ploughed her fingers through her hair. “Show her in.”

Within a second, the door opened. Mariana, with her lips glossy and hair agleam, walked in, swaying her hips.

“Mariana, how are you today?”

“Is everything alright?”

Lister winced on the inside. “How can I be of help? I’m occupied, as you can see.”

“Not in a good mood, I see. Fine by me." Mariana sauntered around the desk and, before Lister could protest, sat on her lap sideways. "Hmm. Missed me?"

The scent of her musk perfume made Lister’s head swim. Her fingers drew small circles on Lister’s skin behind the ear. It sent a familiar tingling sensation down her spine, and Lister found herself nestling against the touch. Then, Mariana ducked her head to kiss the same spot behind her ear. 

Squirming away, Lister pushed at her knees. "No, get off, Mariana. I can't."

Mariana scoffed, but did as told. “You look... tired. I thought your little friend was feeding you well, cooking so much that you give the leftovers to your assistant.”

Eugénie needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut.

“I just endured a torturous rigmarole of straight men for thirty minutes,” Lister said. “That takes a lot out of you. You’d be surprised. Oh, I have something for you by the way.” Out of the bottom drawer of the desk, she grabbed a raven velvet box and placed it in Mariana’s hand. 

“What is this?” Mariana opened it, and her jaw dropped at the diamond earrings. “Oh, Freddie. These are gorgeous.” A genuine smile tugged at her mouth as she tried to settle herself on Lister’s lap again.

But Lister kept her at arm’s length. “A simple thank you would suffice.”

With a shrug, Mariana took something out of her bag and offered it to Lister. “Sugar candy?” 

Lister took it and popped it into her mouth, rolling it from one cheek to the other. Its artificial grape flavour slightly burned the tip of her tongue. She bit on it a few times. It made a nice clattering sound, before it gave in and crumbled. She loudly munched on it. 

“Jeez, take it easy on your teeth. You’re not a rat,” Mariana said.

Lister heard herself snicker at it. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Being a rat.”

“Why didn’t I have to make an appointment?”

“What?”

Mariana looked out the window. “The last time I was here, you told me to make an appointment if I wanted to see you. Then, when I did so yesterday, Eugénie told me I didn’t have to.”

“It was one of my whims, you must know that.”

But of course, Mariana didn’t buy it, staring at her, seeing through her lie. Her ringed fingers played with the jewelry box. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re bouncing your knees.”

Lister stopped them. “I didn’t run this morning, that’s why.”

“Your Yorkshire accent is coming out.”

“Bugger off!”

They looked at each other in charged silence. 

And it was Lister who looked away first. She felt too tired to argue. “How’s Charles?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. Do you have one more of the candies?” Lister held out her hand with the palm upward. As she received a candy, she crunched down on it without mercy. It was grape-flavoured again. “You said that your step-children wanted to keep him on life-support.”

“Yes. It’s a waste of time and money as far as I’m concerned. But, I don’t know. We don’t talk about it.”

“They must’ve loved him— I mean, love him still.” Lister placed her hand on the desk, the palm facing up.

“It surprised me, too, at first, to be honest.” Mariana put another candy in her hand and, with a sigh, put the whole bag on the desk. “I always thought they despised him. Even more so after he married me.”

Lister turned the bag upside down, scattering the candies over the desk. They were all grape-flavoured. “Love and hatred are not mutually exclusive.” 

“Suppose not,” Mariana said, still looking out the window. “Although, I doubt they are capable of that sort of complex emotions. I think they’re faking it. One or two of them are, if not all. It’s a competition of who can play the devastated child best, and none of them realises the others don’t give a damn about him anymore.”

Lister watched her profile. The pronounced cheekbone, the curves of her nose, crow’s feet Lister had never noticed before. “You’ve been their step-mother for nine years, but you don’t love them, do you?”

Mariana shrugged. “They were already in their twenties when we— when I became their step-mother. They are strangers to me, and I to them.”

“What are you going to do when the time comes?”

Mariana hesitated at that. 

“I’m not asking about us,” Lister said. “I’m asking about you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” 

Lister didn’t, either, if she dared to admit. She popped another candy into her mouth. “Do you remember how we started to say ‘when Charles dies?’ It was some time after your father had passed. You said it as a joke, and we laughed about it.”

“Yes, I do remember.”

“It started out as a joke, but over time, I began to believe in it. Every time you said it, it had become a more plausible future for me.” Lister cast a side glance at her. “But now I feel like perhaps, it had always been a joke to you.”

“Of course, not.”

“But you were never serious, either, were you?” Her irritation began to bubble to the surface, fatigue adding fuel to it. “You made it clear when you came to tell me about his hospitalisation, and even now, you don’t give me a clear answer.”

“How could I? He’s still alive.”

“But the eventuality is crystal clear.”

“His death might be, but other things are still prone to change—”

“And I now have a suspicion that it was just the idea of his death that you wanted, what it symbolised. This freedom—”

“Things are prone to change. I mean, your life is more capricious than mine, what with—”

“And something tells me that maybe, there’s part of you that truly loves him.”

“Oh—” Mariana scoffed. For a moment, she truly seemed at a loss for words. “Oh, how dare you.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. People get attached to others if given enough time, like it or not. And no matter how determined you are not to be affected by their departure, sometimes the heart betrays you at the last minute.”

“Even then, to suggest my attachment to him is stronger than our connection is absurd, and you know that— Did you just eat all of the candies?” Mariana snatched the bag out of her hands and peeked into it. “What the fuck?”

Lister stuck her tongue out. “I hate grape-flavoured candies.”

“I didn’t buy them for you. How are your teeth still intact?” With a shake of the head, Mariana threw the empty bag in the bin.

Lister cast a blank glance at the non-bin bin in the corner. Exhaustion gnawed at her. Her head was pounding, and she wished her heart would stop pumping so much blood to the head. She squirmed away when Mariana touched her hair. 

“Relax. I’m not going to kiss you.” Mariana gently pulled her in by the back of her neck until Lister’s forehead rested against her stomach.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Lister felt the tension leave her body. The familiar warmth and softness overwhelmed her. She clung to her tightly. The tears she’d been trying hard to hold back began to leak. She made no sound, but knew Mariana knew she was crying. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hmm?” Mariana’s tone had nothing but concern. 

“Nothing”—Lister heaved—“is going on.”

Mariana’s stomach expanded against her face as she took a deep breath. “You’re the one, Freddie. I’ve told you so many times, and I’ll do it as many times as I need to.” With her hands on Lister’s cheeks, she tilted her head up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glistening. “I love you. You love me, too.”

How easy it would be, just to give in here. But—

“Ann’s sister passed away,” Lister said. “I need to support her. I can’t leave her.”

Mariana didn’t say anything. In her eyes flickered something Lister couldn’t read. As she leaned forward, Lister thought she was going to kiss her this time. But she only pressed her lips to Lister’s eyes, to her forehead, before pulling her back into the embrace. 

…

The funeral invitation arrived at last, in the middle of the second week. The memorial service would be held in Edinburgh on the weekend, and it made a specific request that all the attendants would dress in non-black clothes. It really seemed like the husband had organized the service without Ann. The envelope also contained a memo from him, reminding Ann about the eulogy. 

“I can’t do it. I don’t think I can,” Ann said as she sat on the bed. 

Lister sat in front of her, trying to hold her hands. “Yes, you can. I’ll help you write it.”

“I don’t want to write anyone’s eulogy.”

“But this is your last chance to say goodbye to her.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t want that. I want her to be _ here_, with me.” She crumpled the memo into a ball and threw it across the room before hugging her knees. 

And Lister decided to give her some space.

Since then, though, Ann’s state seemed to go into a downward spiral. As if it had reminded her of the reality, where her only sister was gone. Sometimes, people get so busy being sad that they forget why they are sad. And it is often small things that bring them back to reality. It hits them hard. And Lister suspected this was what was happening to Ann.

Her sleeping patterns became backwards. Sleeping during the day and waking up as Lister came home. She did not eat much. She did not talk much. 

Every night, though, she would demand Lister’s touch the moment Lister put her head on the pillow. Energy only seemed to return to her then. In silence, her gestures would make clear what she wanted. Sitting astride Lister’s lap, bringing Lister’s hand between her legs, gyrating her hips, her jagged fingernails leaving angry welts on Lister’s skin in their wake. They didn’t need words.

But her eyes— Her eyes didn’t see Lister. There were shadows in them, so foreign and ghostly. The stickiness that this particular type of sorrow often invited, leaving an unpleasant sensation at the back of her throat. They didn’t need words, but Lister craved them, afraid Ann might fade into the silence. In the quiet bedroom, their bodies would sway and quiver in unison. For hours on end. Like a wind-up toy. Until deathlike sleep reclaimed Ann. 

And even on nights where her steam didn’t last long, their sleep was far from peaceful. Nightmares became more and more common. No sooner would Lister enter a deep sleep, than Ann would shake her awake, begging to be held, whimpering, sobbing. 

One time, Lister pretended to continue to be asleep. Ann gave up soon, but a pang of guilt beat Lister’s need for sleep. With resignation, she opened her eye slightly, and squinted at Ann checking her phone. The screen light illuminated her pale face in the dark.

"Go back to sleep, Ann,” Lister said and willed her body to move, wrapping her arm around her.

Ann shivered as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I think… I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“It was a nightmare. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Was it a dream? I’m so confused.”

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

There was a pause. Lister hoped she had fallen asleep.

“We used,” Ann said, “to call each other to say good night, Elizabeth and I, after she had gotten married and moved away. Every night. And then, we switched to texting, and at one point, we stopped even doing that. I don’t know why. I don’t even remember which of us that stopped first.” She whined and said in a quivering whisper, “Tell me. Did… Did something happen to Elizabeth?”

And by not answering the question, Lister gave her the answer she dreaded. Ann began to sob harder, her body shaking against Lister’s. The darkness of the room deepend around them. Lister stared at the faint ray of light cast on the ceiling, coming in through a gap in the curtains, in order not to get drowned in it. Even after Ann had begun to lightly snore, Lister lay there wide awake.

The next day, Lister had to sacrifice the exercise time in the morning to sleep in the office. 

It worked for Ann. It didn’t matter to her when to sleep or wake up. But this was starting to take a serious toll on Lister. She wasn’t young anymore. Surviving on little sleep was a thing of her youth, one of her many follies— It had never occurred to her that a day like this would ever come, but sex no longer appealed to her. Sleep. That was all she craved.

The universe seemed to answer her desperate prayer at last, and Ann’s insatiable desire seemed to wane a couple of days later. When Lister got in bed that night, all Ann did was to run her fingers over Lister’s arm, watching goosebumps appear on her skin. Very quiet. That, despite everything, disconcerted Lister.

“Are you feeling alright?” she said against her better judgement.

“My period started,” Ann said.

For a moment, the prospect of a good night’s sleep for the next few days gave Lister a sense of relief. “Are you in pain? Have you taken a pill? I can get you a hot water bottle.”

Ann answered to all of the questions with a single head shake. She sat up, then, and pulled Lister into a kiss, deepening it as usual. “I want you. Can I touch you tonight?”

It was more of a command than a request. Lister didn’t bother to give her an answer as Ann’s hand wandered up to rest on her breast. Her lips found the skin of her neck. Ann sucked there softly at first, and then harder. Pain and pleasure coursed through her body. Then, the suction grew more intense, more tenacious. Like a leech, sucking the life out of Lister. Her hand slithered downward to slip underneath Lister’s boxers. Ann cupped her between the legs, and a collective moan escaped their throats, followed by Ann’s visceral groan. 

Without a word, Lister forced herself to relax and let Ann continue with the flicking and rubbing. If it had to be like this, she’d better enjoy it.

But when Ann’s finger came to rest at her opening and pressed slightly, Lister couldn’t keep quiet. “Wait. Hold on.”

Ann drew away. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“No. Not that. Just, not inside. I don’t like it.”

There was a brief moment of silence while those words sank in. And in a flash of understanding, Ann’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Lister sat up to wrap her arms around her shoulders. “You don’t need to apologise.” 

“Yes, I do.” Ann had backed away completely. She buried her face in the mattress, gathering the bedsheet in her fists, and wailed. “I can’t do anything right.”

Nothing Lister said or did could comfort her anymore. The crying continued for probably half an hour, thrusting both of them into separate pits of misery. Ann cried herself to sleep, and only then could Lister follow suit. For the first time since the fateful day, she got to have more than three hours of sleep, uninterrupted.

…

In her office, Lister read the instructions of her newly purchased caffeine capsules while Booth bounced his knees in the couch. _ Take one capsule at a time. _ Screwing the lid off, she removed the unnecessary ball of a plastic sheet out of the bottle and peered into it. The capsules filled about two third of the container. She held one between her fingers. Half green and the other half yellow, it looked quite cartoonish. 

“What’s that?” Booth said.

Lister took it with a sip of water. “Ecstasy.” 

“What?” He grew pale, casting an apprehensive eye towards the door before leaning forward. “You can’t do that, Miss Lister.”

“Really?”

“Think about the public image—”

“You have never seen ecstasy before? Really?” With a sigh, Lister threw the bottle to him. 

He caught it in an awkward manner and, still with a look of apprehension, scanned the label. “Caffeine?” he said. “Not ecstasy?”

“No, Booth, they are not.” Lister demanded the bottle back with a flick of her wrist. “You really should go out more. Socialise. It won’t do you good to spend so much time playing chess on the internet.” 

“Well, I’m not sure how chess and drugs are related—”

“Could you start the briefing, please?” Lister waved at the tablet on his knees. 

Booth fumbled with it. “Ah, yes, ma’am.” 

Gathering his composure, back to his usual level of timidity, he briefed her. On the recent marketing strategies, PR work, and all the boring, but important stuff. 

Listening to his voice, Lister played with the bottle. Simply swallowing one capsule felt insufficient. Highly unsatisfactory. She should’ve bought tablets that she could munch on. She read the instructions again. _ Take one hour before when you want to be at peak performance__, _ they said. Lister didn’t have that kind of time. _ Do not take more than four per day_, which could surely be interpreted as, she could take another now. 

“Oh, and we got an update on the Twitter lady,” Booth said. “Her name is Alice Hardcastle. She worked as an intern at Northwich in 2010, when Ainsworth was still COO. She now works in a branch of Capital One in Arizona, but is taking a maternity leave.”

Lister popped a capsule into her mouth. “Good. Have we talked to her?”

“We have. Her allegation is quite the same as the one made on Twitter. Very consistent. She didn’t work directly under him, but he would often request her specifically to run errands for him. From buying coffees to picking up his dry cleaning and delivering it to his house."

"Twat."

"On the last day at work, he invited her to his office after a party, and…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “But she managed to flee before things got serious.”

“Before things got serious?” 

He looked at her in alarm, the panic almost tangible. “I meant more serious,” he said as his back straightened. “Of course, sexual harassment is just as serious as sexual assault. Um, she provided us with a photograph of the party.” Pushing himself up a bit from the couch, he handed his tablet to her.

The screen showed a grainy photograph of a young woman with a corny haircut, standing side by side with younger Ainsworth. His sideburns were out of control. Although with fewer wrinkles on his face, he still looked like the same childish straight white man Lister had to deal with on a daily basis these days. 

“Hmm.” Lister gave the tablet back. She tried to blink back sleep, but in vain. “And?” 

“She’s reluctant to go back on Twitter, it looks like," Booth said. "So many trolls out there, and she’s worried that the stress might have a negative impact on the baby. But she doesn’t sound like she’s eager to take our money, either. We have to see. That’s it for now.”

“Very well. Keep me updated. Anything else?”

Booth shook his head. 

“Off you go, then,” Lister said.

He got to his feet and turned to the side, but turned back to look at her. His chubby finger pointed at the bottle on the table. “Are these really caffeine pills?”

“What?”

“Just— I ran into Mrs. Priestley the other day, ma’am, and she made very clear her concern for you. I do, too, feel worried… You look—I hope you don’t mind me saying this—tired. And, if there’s anything we could do…”

Lister gave him a long, measured look, unblinking. “Do you truly reckon me as the kind of leader that gets high at work?”

“No. I was simply—”

“I’m alright, Booth. And you can tell that to Mrs. Priestley if you ever get to have a lovely chit-chat with her like that in the future.” Lister waved her hand towards the door. “Off you go.”

Lowering his head, he scurried out through the door.

The door clicked shut behind him, and only then did Lister release the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She clutched her head in her hand. How pathetic was it that everyone could see though her? Mariana, Mrs. Priestley, and even the ever unobservant Booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope the candy scene gives off the same vibe as the thermometer scene 😆 we need more comedy relief like that.
> 
> Also, my New Year's one-shot will be up on NYE. Don't forget to check it out 🎆🎉


	17. Bad thespians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who still have doubt about Lister, I sincerely hope this chapter would change your opinions of her... Or not ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, mental health issues

The situation was more dire than she was willing to believe. It could not go on like this. There was no denying that. Lister was just a warm body for Ann now. A sleeping pill. And every time Lister touched her, the visible bones under her skin stirred a sense of horror. 

Ann had said it terrified her how sudden souls could vanish. But the more terrifying, Lister thought, was watching someone fade away, day by day, right before her eyes. The shadow would remain long after the person disappeared. Only a cellular memory, that would fade, too, one day. 

Ann and Lister, they were both standing on the precipice of it.

Lister stood in front of the mirror in Ann’s bathroom that night and swallowed down the murmuration of her stomach. She barely recognised herself. Deeper creases between her brows, dark circles under her eyes, the glint in her eye gone. 

Lister could no longer bare the weight of both of them on her back. It couldn't be any more obvious. She needed to do something about Ann, needed to talk to her. Otherwise, there was no hope for an optimistic ending for either of them.

Ann was lying on Lister’s side of the bed. With an absent air, her index finger moved, at a sluggish pace, down the spine of Lister’s journal placed on the nightstand.

Lister gently made her roll over to her own side. Sitting down, she gave a smile. “I was thinking if you’d like to visit my office tomorrow? The leaves are turning orange now. We promised, remember?"

“Did we? When?” Ann said with little enthusiasm.

“When you came to my office for the first time.”

An unreadable expression flickered across Ann’s face and disappeared. “How’s work?”

“You don’t need to worry about it. Everything’s fine.”

As she hummed, Ann played with the hem of Lister’s shirt.

“So? Want to come to my office?” Lister said. “You can wear the coat I got you. You haven’t tried it on yet, have you? You haven’t been outside for more than a week now. A change of scenery will get you feeling refreshed. Let’s walk Argus together if you don’t want to come to my office. You know how he loves walking with you. Hmm? What do you say?”

With a furrow on her brow, Ann shook her head. "I don't feel like it."

“Right now, probably not. But you might change your mind. We could grab something nice to eat, too. You might have your appetite back if you take a walk.”

Instead of answering, Ann slipped her hand underneath her shirt. She then sat up and planted open-mouthed kisses on Lister’s neck. “I don’t want to talk.” She squeezed her breast. “I want to feel you.”

The sensation of someone’s skin against hers. It was familiar. So easy. For a split second, Lister wondered if it was worth the struggle. But her body and mind screamed in agony. “Ann, no—” She separated their bodies with her gentle hands on Ann’s scrawny shoulders. “I need to sleep. Please, let me sleep just tonight.” Her voice, even in her own ears, sounded so desperate, so pathetic. 

A look of confusion flashed across Ann’s face. Her lip then began to quiver. “You don’t want me?”

“Just tonight. I—” 

“It’s because I’m ugly.”

“What? Of course, not.” Lister cupped her cheeks.

Ann wrapped her fingers around her wrists in a vice-like grip. “I know I’m losing weight, and you don’t find me attractive like this. I know that.” Her eyes filled with tears as she gritted her teeth. “But you don’t need to be so mean.”

“Ann—”

“You know it’s not my fault. I’m trying. I’m trying, Anne.”

Lister pulled her into an embrace. “I know. I never said it was your fault.”

“You’re cross with me.”

“I’m not cross with you.”

“You are. I know it. I can feel it.” Ann shook her head against Lister’s chest. “I can feel you getting sick of me and wanting to abandon me and go to someone else.”

Her heart clenched. “Of course, I do not.” Cupping her cheeks again, Lister peered into her face. “Ann, I’m not going anywhere. You are not ugly. But you must understand that you’re hurting yourself, and it hurts me watching that.”

More tears streamed down Ann’s face as she shook her head, saying no to something Lister didn’t understand. Her lips sought Lister’s. The kiss tasted of salt and lethargy. She threaded her fingers into Lister’s hair, keeping their lips connected. 

“Don’t leave me,” Ann said. “I will die if you leave me.” One hand then left her head and slithered down, grabbing Lister’s hand and guiding it to her core. 

“I thought you were on your period,” Lister said in a lame tone. She was too tired to resist anything anymore.

“It stopped.”

“It stopped?” 

Ann slipped Lister’s hand into her underwear, where her wetness welcomed her fingers. When they pulled the hand out, there was no trace of blood on her fingers. 

“I want you,” Ann said, as if in prayer. "I feel so empty. Make me feel something." She closed her lips around the fingers and sucked on them.

That sight—so uncharacteristically daring—spread oozing heat in Lister’s lower abdomen. She didn’t want it. But she felt it. Ann claimed her lips again, and they both moaned at the taste. 

Like this, against Lister’s will, they returned to routine. Little whimpers spilling from the back of Ann’s throat as she threw her head back. Rugged nails leaving welts, thighs quivering, mouth wide open, and eyes vacant. Another sleepless night. Ann fluttered around Lister’s fingers.

Lister cupped her cheek. “Look at me.”

_ Say my name. _

But Ann didn’t, and instead quickened the gyrating movement of her hips. Her body tensed up, squeezing and spasming around Lister, with their breathing suspended between them. It seemed to go on for many seconds before the tremors calmed down at last. And she began rocking her hips yet again. Without a word or a look at Lister, in the room full of meaningless noises.

…

When the alarm went off in the morning, Lister found that Ann was not in the bed. But before the recent memory of a very similar situation could strike a panic into her, Ann in the bedside armchair caught her sleepy eye. She was curled up in a ball, asleep. Lister walked to her and picked up the blanket from the floor that had slid off her lap. 

Under the blanket, though, there was also her sketchbook. After draping the blanket over Ann, she picked it up as well. Some pages now had sharp creases in the corner, pressed down on the floor for long. While she smoothed them out, Lister scanned the pencil line work. It was a different page from the one Ann had shown her before, but it had sketches of Lister just the same. Not her in bed, though. These little versions of her all wore clothes, had longer hair, and looked somewhat younger. Other pages had more sketches of her. Lister kept flipped through the pages until she came across a sketch with a date. It was marked five years ago.

Was this what Ann didn’t want her to see? Drawings of her before they had met? Why? Lister was not artistically trained. She could not see yearning or passion in graphite. But sketching the same subject for many years, that must mean something. Had Ann feared they might creep Lister away? 

Lister ran her fingers across the paper before glancing at Ann in the armchair. How long had this girl been looking at Lister like this? From afar. 

And when she had longed to be with Lister, was this the life she had dreamed of? 

_ I can feel you wanting to abandon me, _ Ann had said last night.

Those words kept echoing in her ears for days, stabbing her in the chest with an intensity that never waned. Lister’s mask of strength was glass that hid nothing. And she loathed it.

...

It felt like they were both stuck in a time warp, having the same conversations everyday without actually communicating with one another. Each day felt like an eternity. Lifetime’s worth of emotion and tumult. But when Lister tried to record in her journal, nothing came to her mind. Their days were an Antarctic whiteout, hiding the horizon and sky from view. Making them disoriented.

Then, during the day, she would go to work, where it felt as though standing at the centre of a whirlwind of time. The fiscal reports of the last quarter. The Northwich probe. The negotiation with the Twitter lady, which fortunately the major media outlets hadn’t picked up on yet, but was only a matter of time. All of them along with the regular stuff.

As the end of the year approached, the pressure to take action about Northwich seemed to intensify, from the board, the shareholders, the media, the public. From all directions. Only then was Lister reminded of the cruelty of passage of time.

It felt like leading a dual life. She often found herself wondering if this was part of her fever dream. In the next instant, the feverish bubble might pop, and she might find herself in bed with Mariana or something. 

It was unbelievable that it had only been less than a fortnight since Elizabeth’s passing. Next morning, they would have to drive to Edinburgh for the memorial service.

Ann had not written a eulogy yet. 

“I never agreed to it,” Ann said with a quivering lip. “Captain Sutherland just ordered me, like he always does. I’m not his subordinate.”

Similar phrases. Same emotions. Same tears. It was close to eight in the evening, and Lister had been trying to talk her into it for the past forty-five minutes in the bedroom.

“But what are you going to do,” Lister said, “when you stand in front of the people tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to go to the service.”

“Don’t you want to talk to your sister for the last time?” 

It seemed to touch the nerve, and Ann burst into tears. This hadn’t been Lister’s intention— Or, perhaps it had been, deep down. Lister didn’t know anymore. As Ann’s wail reverberated in the room, she could feel it chipping away at her patience, and wondered how easy it would be to resort to more forcible means. Shouting. Shout and break Ann so Lister could coerce her into doing what was right.

Lister took several deep breaths. “Listen, Ann. If you don’t want to write it, we can pay someone else to do it. A professional eulogy writer. They exist. There isn’t much time left, but—”

“No.” The expression on Ann’s face was of pure disgust.

“Then, you must write it yourself.”

“No.”

Lister ignored it as she typed at her laptop keyboard. Taking more deep breaths, she searched for guides to eulogy composition and clicked on the first result. The sound of Ann’s stifled sobs disturbed her concentration every so often, and Lister had to read the first section of the guide twice to comprehend it. 

At last, she cast a glance at Ann. “You could include her favourite poem or two, or anecdotes that highlight her character.” She scrolled down. “They have some popular poems for this occasion. You could use one of them.”

In sulky silence, Ann hugged her knees to her chest. 

Lister read one of them, “_ ‘Farewell, my friends. It was beautiful as long as it lasted. The journey of my life.’ _ What do you think? It matches your philosophy.”

“I don’t want other people’s words.”

A long sigh threatened to escape Lister’s throat. She bit down her lip to suppress it. The temptation of sleep was beginning to swallow her, and she really needed some good hours of sleep for tomorrow. Shifting her attention back to the laptop, she opened a Word document and wrote down the basic structure of a eulogy. The introduction, the body with a couple of poems or anecdotes, and the conclusion. 

"I'm sorry." 

Lister looked up and saw Ann shedding silent tears. 

“I’m such a burden to you,” Ann said. “I’m not trying to irritate you on purpose.”

A pang of guilt squeezed her heart. “I know that, Ann.” Lister moved to sit beside her on the mattress. “I know it’s hard, and that you’re not a superhuman. I just… need you to do this one thing. Go to the service tomorrow, because if you don’t, you will regret it. This is your only chance. And you cannot travel back in time to redo it.”

Her internal conflict manifested itself between her brows. “I can’t remember any story about her. It’s all… in a jumble.” Still, something in her voice had given in. It no longer had the tone of simmering frustration, but perhaps a tone of surrender. 

“I’ll help you,” Lister said. “Your brain is trying to sabotage you. Don’t listen to it. Listen to me, okay?” She looked around the room. “You once told me that you grew up in this house. Did you share a bedroom with Elizabeth?”

Ann slowly shook her head. “She went to school in Paris. I didn’t get to play with her a lot.”

“How old were you when she left for Paris?”

“I don’t know. Five or six, I think.”

This was going well. This was the most productive conversation they’d had for the first time in a while. 

“Right,” Lister said. “So, you didn’t spend a lot of time with her as a child. Did she ever come home during the breaks?”

Ann nodded. “Every summer and winter.”

“What did you do when she was home?”

Ann’s gaze travelled around the room, as if transporting herself back to her childhood. “We… I don’t know. She was often out with her friends, but… she used to read me bedtime stories. And tell me all about Paris. I loved that.”

With an encouraging smile, Lister kissed her on the forehead. “See? You’re doing very, very well.”

A sutble smile crept across Ann’s lips.

Lister bent forward and reached for the briefcase at the foot of the bedside table, searching for something to jot it down on. But there was nothing. Her journal on the nightstand caught her eye, then. She grabbed it, uncapped the fountain pen, and opened it to the back pages. She scribbled a few keywords. “Go on. Tell me more.” 

“Um, ask me questions.”

Lister searched her memory in her state of sleep deprivation. “You speak French. Is it Elizabeth who taught you?”

“Mmhmm.” Ann couldn’t seem to say anything more. They needed more specific questions.

“Did you… Have you ever travelled to France with her?”

“Once. When I was fourteen. My parents were still alive.”

Lister would not delve into the story of her parents. She wrote ‘trip to France’ on the paper. “Any funny stories of the trip?”

“No.” The colour of withdrawal was beginning to return in Ann’s eyes. “I got lost. I only remember feeling terrified.” She closed her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her face. “I miss her.”

Lister pulled her into her arms. Ann felt so small, so fragile. The sheen on her blonde curls was lost as she barely washed her hair these days. Lister would have to steer her into the shower after this. 

“Does this ever go away?” Ann said. “This feeling?”

_ Does it? _“No. But you will learn to live with it.”

Ann sniffled, nuzzling into the side her neck. “How old were you when you lost your mother?”

Lister hesitated. But in that split second, she decided to answer. “Fifteen.” It would’ve only led to further unpleasantness if she’d allowed herself more time to think.

“I was fifteen when my parents died, too,” Ann said. Another sob. “You said before that it didn’t make you sad anymore.”

It didn’t sound like a question to Lister. She decided to drop it. “So, when your sister graduated from the school in Paris, did she come back to London?”

Ann nodded. “She lived here, studying law at UCL.” Her hand rose to touch her forehead. “She stayed in the guest room— No, it was her bedroom? I don’t remember. I think I made it a guest room after she moved away.”

“Okay.” Lister let her gaze drop to the memo. 

Coming home during breaks. Bedtime Stories. French language. Trip to France. She asked herself how these vague-at-best keywords could ever morph into a decent eulogy that Ann wouldn’t regret years later. Into an anecdote that showed Elizabeth’s character. Elizabeth, whom Lister had never met.

Then, she thought, perhaps it was hard because they were trying to find glory in the mundane. Big life events might be easier.

Lister pressed the tip of her pen down on the paper. “Tell me about her wedding—”

It was when the mix of a sigh and a moan broke from Ann’s lips. 

Lister looked up. “Yes?”

“I remember now,” Ann said, her gaze distant. “When she needed to go back to Paris… I think it was summer. I was upset that she had to leave. Upset and sad and angry. I begged her to stay, but she couldn’t. That upset me more.” Thick, transparent walls of tears appeared in her eyes, crumbling in the next breath. “So, I broke the window of her bedroom. Shattered it with her trophy so my parents would get mad at her and make her stay. Of course, they knew it was me that had done it. But Elizabeth, she defended me, asked them not to punish me for it.”

Silence fell on them. 

Haunted by that story, it took Lister some seconds to notice that Ann had stopped talking. She wrote it down. And as the ink left trails across the paper, it hit her what kind of a place she was in. A graveyard of memories. Even the most trifling part of this house like the window had memories buried in it, of Elizabeth, of her parents. And, Lister realised, of her. She struggled to describe the feeling that idea evoked in her. Bafflement, amusement, and perhaps fear. 

Her hand reached for her neck to fix the high collar that wasn’t there. “I think this is a great story to tell, Ann.” She gave Ann a reassuring squeeze on the hand before climbing off the bed to grab her laptop. 

The page was no longer blank. That was one big step forward. 

Ann pulled at the hem of Lister’s shirt. “I’m scared. What if I messed it up? I’m not good at public speech. This is my last chance to…” She shook her head. “I can’t make mistakes.”

Lister looked into her face. “You being there is the most important thing.” She nodded to the laptop screen. “Now, let’s finish this. Take a shower afterwards. You want to show Elizabeth that you are doing fine.”

…

The writing and revision took three hours in total. Lister stayed up after Ann had cried herself to sleep. 

And on the next morning, as dictated by the invitation, Ann wore her light purple dress, and Lister her dark blue suit. Ann’s clarity of mind and courage they had seen the previous night turned out to be short-lived. She threw a minor fit before leaving the house, and continued to shed tears on the drive to Edinburgh. 

“I don’t want to go,” she kept saying.

“But don’t you think she’d want you there?”

“No, she didn’t want any of this,” Ann said through gritted teeth. “She wanted to be _ alive _.”

After that, Lister remained quiet, letting her cry and fall asleep in the passenger seat.

The funeral home was located by the seaside. Lister got out of her Bugatti and stared ahead to the horizon for a moment as the breeze blew in her face. It was a beautiful day. The smell of the ocean made her stomach churn.

The husband, Captain Sutherland of Royal Navy, greeted them at the entrance. He looked like the archetypal military personnel. Clean-shaven, alacritous, a stoic countenance, a toneless voice. The medals and golden insignia on his uniform twinkled as if they were the most admirable personal trait of his. 

“Ann, glad you could make it,” he said. 

Ann didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at him.

Undeterred, Captain Sutherland turned to Lister. “And you are?”

Lister shook his hand. “Anne Lister, sir. Her"—She should've asked Ann how she should introduce herself to the family. Now the opportunity seemed to have been lost—"friend. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

Only then did the shadow of a smile appear across his thin lips. “I appreciate it, Ms. Lister. Please, do make yourself comfortable. We got another ten minutes until the ceremony starts.”

They moved into the venue filled with flowers and people in colourful clothes. Ann seemed to tremble, looking around as if everyone was there to conspire against her. The only thing Lister could do was to rest a comforting hand on the small of her back.

There was a memorial table by the wall, with items that had significance in Elizabeth’s life on display. A violin, a shawl, a picture of her wedding day… Lister found a picture of Elizabeth and Ann as children—Ann still had the preteen fat in her cheeks—posing together in front of the Kensington house. 

The service programme had a picture of Elizabeth as an adult on the front page. In her suit jacket and with a plain white background, it looked more like a LinkedIn profile picture. She had strong eyebrows and eyes, but Lister saw a resemblance to Ann in the mouth. Inside the programme was a short verse. 

_ The idea is not to live forever, but to create something that will. _

—Andy Warhol

Next to her, Ann threw her own copy of the programme out with a sneering puff of air. “It’s all wrong. So wrong. Who does he think he is?” Her voice trembled.

Lister glanced around, making sure Captain Sutherland was out of earshot. “Why do you say that?” she said to Ann.

“He never loved her. He just married her for her money. I know it. I’ve always told her he doesn’t deserve her.” Her eyes filled with new tears. “And now he’s happy to be rid of her.”

Lister wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. As she swayed their bodies together, a bit of a commotion at the entrance caught her attention. They both looked in the direction. The Rawsons, led by the matriarch, were shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with Captain Sutherland. Their outfits looked loud, as if this was a celebratory occasion. But Christopher was an exception. He wore a black suit.

Ann let our a groan. "Of course, they'd be here."

“What?”

After a moment of hesitation, Ann dropped her gaze and said, “The Rawsons. They are my relatives.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep them away as much as possible. Don’t worry.”

“Do you?” Ann furrowed her brows as she wiped away her tears. “Have I told you about them before?” Her voice had nothing but a puzzled note.

And Lister found herself feeling baffled by Ann’s confusion, by the question. “I think so? I mean, how else would I know it?” 

It was a lie, of course. But that was all Lister knew at this point. Her mind was in shambles. She vaguely recalled her own decision to pretend not to know about their relation, though the rationale for it was lost in the memory haze. 

Her eyes met Christopher’s across the venue, then. They nodded at each other in silent acknowledgement, but kept their distance. For now.

The service lasted for an hour. Lister and Ann sat with Captain Sutherland in the front row. His opening speech was dry and superficial. Liser opened the programme, running her eyes over the Warhol’s verse again. The breeze carried the smell of the ocean into the venue through the open windows and doors. The speech went on and on. A baby began to wail in the middle of it. Even after someone had took the baby outside, their crying still reached their ears. 

Ann, too, cried for the entire duration of the service, but in relative silence. Lister’s restlessness grew more and more intense as time passed. She considered taking Ann's hand, but couldn't cast aside her uncertainty. Captain Sutherland clearly wasn't aware of the nature of their relationship, nor was the rest of the attendants except for, maybe, Christopher Rawson. The last thing Lister wanted now was to invite unwanted attention that would bear down on Ann's shoulders. But that couldn’t make her restlessness go away.

A cheaply-made tribute video ended. It was time for eulogies, and Ann was the first to go. She stood up and went to stand in front of the microphone with apprehensive steps. The hands that held the paper shook. Lister kept staring at her, wishing Ann would look at her, no matter how briefly, so she could reassure her with a smile. But not once did Ann look at her.

She slowly spoke, "Elizabeth was my big sister, my best friend, my confidante, and in a way, my mother, and most importantly, my role model. She was an embodiment of sympathy and courage who dedicated her life to make the world a better place. She always used to say, 'Choose compassion, always. Regretting being kind is much better than regretting being unkind.'" Her lips twisted slightly in what Lister read as bitterness. 

The eulogy moved on to the anecdote about the window of her bedroom. Her tears continued to stream down her face. At the end of every other sentence, Ann let out a sob, the sound amplified by the microphone. 

Lister watched the scene for a while, knees bouncing. It had only been a minute, but there was no agony short enough to tolerate. She expected Captain Sutherland to intervene, but the man did not even flex a single muscle of his face. Up there, Ann was truly alone. And when she began to fully sob and could no longer speak, Lister finally jumped out of her chair and ran up to pull her into her arms. 

Lister peered into her face. “Do you want to come down?” she whispered so the microphone wouldn’t pick up her voice. 

Still, Ann shook her head. She regulated her breathing and resumed her eulogy. 

Lister held her shaking shoulders till the end. But where they stood, the smell of the ocean hit them more directly. Her head was swimming, her stomach churning. She didn’t remember walking away from the microphone with Ann. 

After the service was concluded, Ann went to the lavatory to freshen up. So, Lister strode outside the funeral home, over to the edge of the seaside cliff, and vomited. The walls of her throat burned. Tears crowded into her eyes as part of the physiological reaction. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to scream.

“Oof, are you alright, Miss Lister?"

A pair of disgustingly polished shoes first came into view. Lister then raised her head to find the smirk of Christopher Rawson.

"I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look terrible. Gone grey a bit, I see.” He pointed at her head, before his eyes flicked lower. “You don't happen to be knocked up, do you? It’s just the whole fiasco with Northwich?” 

She straightened her back and fixed her high collar. “Must be the oysters I had this morning.”

“I hope that’s not a euphemism or anything.”

Still tasting bile in her mouth, Lister spat again sideways without breaking eye contact. 

“You seemed quite close with my cousin,” Rawson said. “Not the deceased. The alive one. Little Miss Walker. It is _ Miss _Walker, right? She hasn’t married yet?”

Married _ yet_. What an ugly wording. Had the situation been different, Lister would’ve given him a lecture on marriage as a social institution, how it was not a goal in life, and therefore the use of the word ‘yet’ was utterly inappropriate— For now, however, the best way was to have as little interaction with this social virus as possible.

“An eligible bachelorette, that one,” Rawson said. “You made quite a show back there. Now everyone is saying the famous Miss Lister of Shibden Group is here. How exciting.” 

“I’m only here to support Miss Walker.”

“Right. And how do you know her?”

The subtext was not lost on Lister. “We are friends.”

“Just friends?" Rawson sneered.

More lecture material. This man’s ignorance went probably deeper than the Mariana Trench. _ Just friends. More than friends. _ But Lister opted not to say anything. Educating him wasn't her responsibility.

His eyes narrowed in a mocking grin. “Forgive me for being so crude, but nowadays it’s not just persons such as yourself who call themselves… you know, queer. I’m having a rather hard time making that distinction.”

Looking to the sea over his shoulder, Lister imagined how satisfying it would feel to shove him over the cliff. “Insult me all you like, Mr. Rawson. I’m fair game. But do not mock my friend. I don’t care if she’s your cousin. She’s my dear friend, and I will not tolerate your speaking ill of her.”

“Those trolls online have more sinister things to say about her, I’m sure. You seem to have no qualms about exposing her to the public gaze.”

Something in her snapped. And it clicked at the same time. Underneath all the veneer of friendliness, everything boiled down to his company. This memorial service, Ann’s grief, her relationship with Lister. He knew about their relationship, suspected something of Lister, and had been waiting for an opportunity to poke around. That must be it. If it hadn’t been for that, Lister doubted he would’ve even shown up today.

“You know what, Mr. Rawson? I’m going to be as diplomatic as possible given the circumstances, but”—she took a step forward, glaring straight into his eye—“there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I loathe more than bad thespians. If you care so much as to pretend to mourn a death, I urge you do it thoroughly, enough to convince yourself that your grief is real.”

Rawson rolled his eyes. “A lack of visible signs doesn't necessarily mean the absence of grief on the inside.”

Lister laughed right in his face. “I might have to agree with you on that, Mr. Rawson. It is imperceptible, isn’t it? Grief. Unlike the dearth of decency and propriety that you excrete from every pore.”

With no more to add, Lister strode past him, up the mild hill, back into the venue. The reception service had started already. The faint tune of calming music filled the place. The atmosphere felt slightly more relaxed compared to that of earlier as people enjoyed a buffet and a free bar.

Lister spotted Ann across the room, sitting alone in a chair. She waded through the colourful crowd. But a woman jumped in her path.

“How are you, Miss Lister?” 

“Mrs. Rawson.” Lister made her best effort to look delighted. 

Edith Rawson, the matriarch of the clan, gave a Cheshire-Cat grin, moving her Queen-of-Hearts body in a bright red dress. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Imagine my surprise when I saw you earlier, giving my niece a hug!” And she bellowed with her Mad-Hatter laughter. 

Too tired, Lister could only make a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “Yes, I’m beyond delighted to see you, Mrs. Rawson. You look well.”

“Ugh, I’m never well these days. Your body has one problem or another when you’re this old.” Mrs. Rawson gave a snort of amusement, much like the pig-baby in the Lewis Carroll’s story. “But, thank God, at least, I’m still alive.”

It was wrong. All wrong.

She glanced over the shoulder of the Queen of Hearts at Ann. A tiny dot of light purple. But Ann still seemed lost in sorrow, picking at the skin of her lip.

Lister smiled at the woman. “I wish we could’ve seen each other under different circumstances, Mrs. Rawson, but—”

“Oh, yes, indeed.” Mrs. Rawson looked around as though she had remembered where they were. “I tell you what, why don’t we have dinner some time? I’ve been meaning to repay you for your kind gifts. I recently hired a cute chauffeur, too. Come look at him.” She threw her an exaggerated wink.

And in the midst of this surreal circus act, Lister remembered why she had pretended not to know about their kinship with Ann. The scheme. She had wanted to take over the Rawsons’ using Ann. Yes, on second thought, Christopher did have a legitimate reason to be wary of her. How easy it’d be to charm this matriarch now, and inveigle her way into their enterprise. 

The taste of bile lingered inside Lister’s mouth. “That sounds very nice, but I’m afraid I won’t have time for that any time soon.”

“Work keeping you busy, huh? We heard about the scandal. Oh, yes, we all have.” Mrs. Rawson shook her head. “Some people are up to no good, indeed. We all hope it'll be over soon, of course. The regulators, they always ambush, waiting for us to make the slightest mistake. Shame on them.”

“Yes, thank you. Now, excuse me—” Lister brushed by the woman and marched towards Ann, more than grateful for the freedom.

What a joke it was that the concept of vulgarity on legs—ulcerated legs at that—like that was the head of the rival clan of her group. Lister felt pathetic. 

But only within a few metres, another figure came to block her way. 

“Miss Lister.”

“Captain Sutherland.” Lister shook his offered hand. “That was a beautiful service. Again, I’m awfully sorry for your loss.”

He gave an absent-minded nod. Lister couldn’t tell whether it was due to his lack of interest or coping mechanism. She threw a glance at Ann, who had not moved a bit in the chair. 

“Miss Lister, you are good friends with my sister-in-law, I presume?” His voice had no obvious tone of malice, at least.

“Yes, indeed.”

Deep in thought, Sutherland nodded again and turned his head in the direction of Ann. “How is she coping with this… loss?”

“Well, as you’ve seen earlier, sir, not very well.”

“Is she like that at home as well?”

At home as in, in London or in her house, Lister couldn’t infer from his tone alone. “Yes, she is.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, looking over at Ann with a poker face. “I dropped by the house once, for some old photos… We couldn’t even have a decent, coherent conversation. Is there anyone taking care of her?”

“Me,” Lister said, and quickly added, “as much as I could, that is.”

Some thoughts seemed to flicker across his face, tugging at his thick eyebrow. “Does she…” He came closer and lowered his voice. “I’m concerned, Miss Lister, about her mental state. Elizabeth often said that when their parents passed away back to back, she became depressed and had to have antidepressants prescribed to her. I’m not shaming her for it. All I want to know is, if she’s taking her medication if she needs to. Do you know anything about that?” 

Until now, this question of medication had never occured to Lister. “Yes, she is,” Lister said. “You needn’t worry, sir.” 

Excusing herself, she made her way to Ann. She slapped herself internally. The subject of her mental health had never been brought up between them. But in retrospect, it couldn't have been any clearer that Ann needed some sort of professional intervention. 

The moment Lister came in sight, Ann extended her arms to hold onto her. “Where have you been?” she said. “I thought you’d gone home without me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“The Rawsons, you hate them.” Ann squeezed her eyes shut. “I was so scared that, because I’m related to them, you didn’t want to—”

Lister knelt before her. “They don’t matter. Ann, look at me— They cannot change my opinion of you. They should never change anyone’s opinion of you.”

A couple of more fat tears rolled down her cheeks, but Ann nodded. “Take me home. I don’t like it here.”

“Okay. Let’s say goodbye to Captain Sutherland.”

They found him with people in military uniforms at the bar, chatting and laughing, only a few minutes after the harrowing conversation he’d had with Lister. While Ann hid behind her, Lister told him about their departure. 

“Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer,” he said. “I would’ve invited you to dinner.”

“We appreciate your hospitality, sir. But”—Lister glanced back at Ann—“I think the comfort of her own home is more important than anything else now.”

After a nod, Sutherland looked at Ann. “It was nice seeing you, Ann. I’m sorry it had to be like this. If you need anything, you will give me a call, won’t you?” 

Ann didn’t respond to him, looking anywhere but. 

Impervious to it, he turned his focus back on Lister. “Thank you for coming, Miss Lister. Make sure to get one of the takeaway gifts for each. They are at the door.”

Bowing to him and his friends, Lister turned on her heel and guided Ann across the venue. People whispered behind them, about Lister, about Ann’s state, about their relationship. But everything vanished in a haze when the smell of the ocean hit Lister again, bringing back old memories. The sound of ocean waves crashing against the cliff walls. Her long hair swaying in the wind. Lister tried to shake these ghosts out of her mind. The walk to the venue exit felt longer than it looked, her feet heavy and numb as though her soles didn’t quite touch the ground. The sound of her own crying. The burning of unfocused rage, imploding. She picked a little gift from the table by the exit. Was mother’s funeral like this, too? There was no way to know. Not anymore. She had refused to attend, and that was that. Her stomach twisted again, with the memories that she had buried deep in her consciousness, fermenting inside.

It was Ann’s breathy sob that cut through the haze. Crashing back to earth, Lister realised they were standing by their car. 

“Let’s go home,” Lister said and unlocked the doors.

Just as she’d done on their way to the venue, Ann spent most of the drive home in tears. Lister, on the other hand, felt glad to be away from the ocean. The pungent smell of it clung to the seats of her beloved Bugatti, her skin and hair, and her clothes, but it would fade. Eventually. Everything would, in time. 

Turning on the air purifier, she waited until Ann’s flood of tears calmed down. “Ann, Captain Sutherland told me something that… Well, he expressed concern about your health. Your mental health. He wanted to know if you were on medication now.” She shifted her focus from the road to Ann briefly. “Are you?”

“I— Oh God.”

“What?”

“I totally forgot about it. I was taking it, and then, when you came along, I thought I didn’t need it anymore and just put it away.”

“Oh—” Lister couldn’t find any other words.

Ann began to cry again. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t be cross.”

“I’m not cross, Ann.” But seeing her continue to sob, Lister pull the car off the road, unbuckled her seat belt, and reached for her over the centre console. “Ann, I’m not cross with you. I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m such a burden to you, aren’t I?”

“No. Never.” Lister cupped her cheek to kiss her on the lips. “I’m staying with you because that’s the choice I made. You are not a burden, do you hear me? Don’t ever belittle yourself like that.”

Her shoulders still trembled in her arms. “What did you tell him?” 

“Captain Sutherland? Nothing— I mean, I said you were medicated just fine. I thought that was what he wanted to hear. I didn’t know what to make of him. His intentions. Military people are never my forte.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know. So, I decided that I didn’t want him sticking his nose in your business.” Lister tilted her head to look into her face. “You are going to be fine. We go home, and you take your medication, and I will be with you to help you get through this.”

The car engine revved again. As the ocean grew distant in the rear view mirror, Lister stepped on the gas pedal slightly harder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "farewell" quote is of Rabindranath Tagore.
> 
> What do you guys think? Too dark and depressing? I feel ya 🙃


	18. That's basic English grammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fill in the blank: When it rains, it _____. :)))

The memorial takeaway gift was a pack of lavender seeds. They planted them in a flower pot that found a spot by the living room window. 

The days were getting shorter, and the stagnant gloom that this season tended to bring about was everywhere. In the skies, on people’s faces, in the wind. But inside the house, it was worse. Ann would sit next to the flower pot on the sill and stare down at the soil, possibly all day long. What Lister knew for sure was that Ann would always be there, in the darkness, when she returned from work. And the weight of the dreary air in the room would crush her lungs, infecting her. 

And speaking of the dreary, Marian never skipped her meddlesome daily phone calls, either. She would ring multiple times during the day, fully knowing Lister wouldn't answer, and call more in the evening if Lister hadn't called back by then. Within days, it became part of Lister's routine, against her will, to talk to her sister on her way back home.

"How's she?" Marian would say. 

"Not any better."

And no matter what Lister's additional answer might be, Marian would always follow up with, "How are you?"

Lister was tired of that question and the sympathetic tone of her voice. She glanced down at the box of pastries, pressed horizontally against her hip. "I ordered a handmade Teddy Bear today."

"For yourself?"

"No— Why would I buy myself a soft toy? Of course, it's for Ann."

"Well, I asked how you were, not what you did. That's basic English grammar."

"And you should know by now that my answer will always be 'fine.' We've been having this conversation for years, Marian. That's basic human communication." 

"Bollocks."

"Whatever."

Marian scoffed. "Fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"No."

The call ended, and Lister shoved her phone back into her pocket. They would talk tomorrow, whether Lister liked it or not. This was the only choice presented to her. Their conversation always took the same route and ended up in the same place. The futility of it must have been clear to Marian, but she still kept calling. Every day. Lister didn't want to bother to wonder what drove her sister so. Pity, most likely. She had always been the emotional one of the two.

Home neared. A package left on the doorstep caught her eye, then. Lister noticed, as she picked it up, that the carved pumpkin next to it had shrivelled up and gone rotten, white patches of mold beginning to spread. Halloween. Ann hadn’t gotten to enjoy it, and Lister only saw it now. Unlocking the door, Lister made a mental note to throw it out later. 

Dark stillness welcomed her home. Lister stepped in, closed the door, and placed her keys on the foyer table while conscious of any noise that her movements caused. Argus came scuttling out of the living room, with the hollow sound of his nails scratching the floor. As he circled around her legs, Lister went into the living room. Her gaze immediately found the silhouette by the window. She switched on the lights. Even then, Ann showed no sign of acknowledging her presence. 

Lister kissed the crown of her head before sitting beside her with her belongings at her feet. “How has your day been?”

A small shrug was Ann’s response.

“I bought you eclairs,” Lister said, “from London's finest choux patisserie. I got one of everything.” Bending forward, she picked the box of pastry, placed it on her own lap, and opened it. “Chocolate, raspberry, hazelnut… We can try them together. Which one do you want first?”

There were moments of suspension as Ann’s vacant gaze fell to them, discerning the colours, but showing no attempt to speak. Lister waited a few more seconds, but ended up picking the green one, unprompted. 

“This one is pistacchio,” Lister said. She let it hover in front of Ann’s face. “Go on. Have a taste.”

Although with an air of indifference, Ann took it with her hands and nibbled on it. The custard spilled from the side, and a small chunk of it sat on the edge of her upper lip. Lister’s heart ached at the sight. She longed to reach out, to swipe it with her thumb, but resisted the urge, watching Ann do it herself a moment later. 

“Well?” Lister said. “Do you like it?”

Ann did not go for the second bite. “You can have the rest. The smell makes me sick.”

“Oh—” Lister hastened to take the eclair from her hand and put it back into the box. She closed the lid before putting it back on the floor, and stared down at it. A sigh threatened to escape. Argus came to take a sniff, trying to nose open the already half-open lid. She shooed him away. “No, bad boy. Go away.” Then, with a smile plastered on her face, she reached for the package. “I’ve got one more thing for you. Let’s see what it is.”

These days, she was ordering one thing or another online on a daily basis. It was hard to keep track of the orders. This box had FRAGILE stickers on the top and the side. Still, no clue. But as soon as she saw the sender’s name, Lister knew what it was. 

Inside it was a bundle of bubble wrap, with a weighty crystal block in the middle. 

“Look.” Lister put the object in Ann’s line of vision. “It’s a photo crystal. I asked my friend in Venice to use a photo of you two.”

The faces of Elizabeth and Ann were portrayed on the glass. _ Always with you_, it said at the bottom. 

Lister gently placed it in Ann’s hands. “It’s sandblast engraving. Do you like it?” 

A single tear rolled down Ann’s cheek as she nodded. 

Swiping the tear with her thumb, Lister offered a smile. “You look good today,” she lied. “November starts tomorrow. I was thinking, perhaps you could come to the monthly opening of the gallery, at the headquarters. Didn’t you say you used to go to it often? It’ll be a nice distraction, yeah?”

As if that was a cue, Ann’s head snapped up with a hint of life. “I have to work.”

“Work? I thought you’d talked to your client yesterday.”

“I got a two-week extension. I need to finish it.” Still, Ann remained slouched in the same spot, looking down at the soil. 

Lister managed to move her to the dining room after some more minutes, where she served a slice of Mrs. Cordingley’s meat pie. She sat them at the table and tried to recreate the scene of their regular dinnertime. But the reenactment was, from the very beginning, futil and poorly-performed, with Ann being such an unresponsive costar. Between the lines, Lister could only hear the sound of Argus chewing his food. 

After the very short performance of a dinner, Lister opened the cupboard and took Ann's bottle of antidepressants. It was almost empty. She went back to the living room window.

"Time for your medication." She gave Ann the pills first and then a glass of water. "I think the meds will run out in a week. Have you made an appointment with your therapist?"

Ann shook her head with a guilty look in her eyes.

“You should.” Lister said. “Or I could do it for you. Give me their name and number. And I’ll come with you if you need me to.”

Ann looked at the flower pot, fiddling with the meds in her hand. She gave a nod and put the tablets in her mouth.

Lister didn't know if these tiny things had actual effect on Ann's mental state. It looked like, if anything, it had been deteriorating since the memorial service. But Lister was no expert. She had to wait and see. And as she watched Ann take a sip of water, the sleep-deprived part of her wished those tablets had hypnotic effects.

…

As expected, Ann didn’t visit the headquarters the next day. So, Lister skipped the gallery opening. Her presence was solely symbolic anyway, and she’d rather not talk to the journalists. The wrinkles on her face had grown prominent in the span of two weeks. As Christopher Rawson had pointed out at the memorial service, her hair had gone grey. She could barely keep her eyes open. 

If Booth could sense there was something off, those vultures would take one quick look at her and, without the shadow of a doubt, jump to the conclusion that Northwich was the culprit of it. They would be wrong. But the thing about those despicable vultures was that only few of them cared about the truth. Most of them just wanted the most dramatic version of a story.

There was no shame in hiding, surely. The end of the year was near. She would just have to hold her ground with tenacity and ride out the storm. Because, only time can resolve issues like this. And she did not have the time machine. 

“So, November,” Mrs. Priestley said in the monthly board meeting. “Your trip across the pond is only a week away.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Lister said.

“What do you plan to achieve during this visit?”

Lister tapped her fingers against the table. “Talk to Ainsworth about the future of Northwich. Suggest resignation, if I deem his leadership no longer satisfactory.” And talk about the sexual allegation more in detail. “And, I would also look to talk with some members of the probe team as well as the Attorney himself. I think the time is ripe.”

Mrs. Priestley looked at Washington next to Lister. “Mr. Washington, I believe you have an acquaintance at the state Attorney’s office. Have they told you anything about the progress of the probe?”

Washington cast an apprehensive side glance at Lister first, and then at Mrs. Priestley. “No, ma’am, nothing. As I’ve said before, these folks truly know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“I reckon that’s their job,” Mr. Pickles said under his breath.

Another female board member leaned forward. “What sort of outcomes do you need,” she said to Lister, “in order to consider taking action?”

“Could you be more specific, please?” Lister said.

“What I mean is that you have been quite defensive of Mr. Ainsworth. We’ve had multiple opportunities to take action, but you have convinced all of us to be patient. So, I believe I’m justified in wondering what more you might need to finally let Mr. Ainsworth go or go ahead with the divestiture process. As you said, the time is ripe. Don’t you think?”

Lister felt Washington tap his foot against hers under the table. Only then did she realise her knees had been bouncing.

“Of course,” Lister said. “That’s the ultimate objective of this trip, to decide which course of action is best to take. I want nothing but the best for Northwich, for us. And if I come to the conclusion that it requires making Ainsworth redundant, I will not hesitate to do so.”

The woman seemed unhappy with the answer, which was understandable. It was not really an answer, but an excuse. Instead of letting the moment hang in the air, however, both of them looked at Mrs. Priestley, who took the hint and spoke,

“I don’t think any more delay in this matter would benefit us in any way. So, I suggest we would have made some sort of change by the end of this year, instead of forever fretting over it in this closed room. What do you all say?” Mrs. Priestley glanced around the table.

All the other board members bobbed their heads.

“Splendid,” Mrs. Priestley said. “Anyone with more to say about this matter?”

As all of them shook their head or shrugged their shoulders, the meeting moved on to another topic. 

When the meeting ended, Mrs. Priestley beckoned to Lister as everybody else was shuffling out of the room.

“Is everything okay, Anne?” she said, resting her hand on Lister’s arm.

Lister felt her concerned gaze roam over her. “I’m superb, Eliza. Thank you for asking.”

“Well, William and I have been quite concerned since our lunch together. You know my niece was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s about two years younger than you—”

“I’m alright, Eliza.” Lister offered a bright smile. “My body is fine.” She gave her friendly pats on the shoulders, ignored her attempt at an objection, and left the room.

Washington was waiting for her in the lift foyer. He pressed the up button as Lister caught up with him, and their heads together turned towards the one lift that lit up with a bleep. Two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway behind them. Mrs. Priestley and the board meeting secretary, having a chit-chat, coming into the foyer. They pressed the down button. Lister shot them another dazzling smile. No one was fooled. The two groups stood at a relative distance, waiting for different lifts that could not come soon enough.

The door of a lift going up opened at last. Lister scurried into it, with Washington following suit, and as the door crawled shut, she finally released her breath. How pathetic. When had she become the sort of person who felt uncomfortable in another person’s presence?

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Washington said.

Lister looked at him askance. She was very, very tired of the question. “How is your family, Washington?”

“They are well. Thank you.”

“Good,” Lister said. “Good…”

Since they only had one floor to go, the lift door soon opened. 

She was alright. She would be alright in the U.S. Nothing to agonize over. This was just like the interview she’d had for the CEO post— The anticipation was nerve-wracking, so many possible scenarios whirling through her mind in the days leading up to it, but when it actually happened, Lister felt disappointed by what child’s play it had been. She had even laughed at herself for getting so overwrought. This visit to the states would just be like that, surely. 

… 

For this reason, as exasperated as she was, she let her guard down. And when another calamity befell her out of the blue the next day, it hit her right in the head. 

After an interval of several days, Lister finally gathered enough energy in the morning to go for a run with Argus. Those days of inactivity had gotten her slightly out of shape. She soon ran out of breath. She held on some more, using the power of the frustration, but eventually had to slow down. 

But, at least, while she was moving her body, her brain didn’t have room for any thought. She turned up the volume on her earphones to combat the remaining whispers inside her head.

Then, the music paused, interrupted by her ringtone. She took her phone out and felt her blood run cold at the Washington’s name on the screen. It thrusted her back to the evening when the whole trouble with Northwich had begun.

Steadying her breath, she answered the call. “Washington.”

“Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour,” he said with a sigh. “Something’s come up. It’s Ainsworth.”

_ Of course, it’s bloody Ainsworth_. Some possibilities flashed through her mind. The conclusion of the probe. Perhaps, more allegations of sexual misconduct. Oh Lord, how wonderful would it be if he had been hit by a bus? 

“My friend at the Attorney’s office just called me,” Washington said. “They’ve added suspicion of bribery to the probe.”

In that moment, Lister understood the true meaning of brain freeze. “What?”

“I don’t know much in detail, but they have someone that is claiming to have received money from Ainsworth—”

“Why on earth would Ainsworth want to—” There came a faint beep sound on the line. Lister saw the name of the man himself. “Never mind. He’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later.” She tapped the END button and accepted the second call. “Ainsworth.”

“Miss Lister.” His voice sounded one octave higher. It was most likely the anxiety, but it still sounded patronising. “It’s not worth calling you so early in the morning, but I thought I’d let you know, considering how you hated my cautious way of handling an issue—”

“A bribery charge, is it?”

“Oh— You already… It’s not a charge. Only suspicion.” He released a popping laugh. “I can promise you it’s not what you think.”

Despite her lingering puzzlement, Lister felt the beginning of her real irritation at his tone. She tugged at Argus's leash and went back home. “Your promises are worth shit, Ainsworth. Explain. Why do they suspect you of bribery?”

He mumbled something, stumbling over his words.

“Cut to the chase, Ainsworth. I don’t have time to listen to you wank yourself to tears.”

“According— According to them," he said, "one of my employees has come forward accusing me of paying him hush money. And—”

“Hush money for what?”

“For— For the investigation. For him not to talk to the investigators. Well, I never told him not to talk to them, ever. I am absolutely baffled where that poor loser got the idea.” 

“Did you pay him, though?”

“No. I mean, all I did was give him a raise, ma'am. But it's because he deserved it.”

“How much?”

“Huh?”

Her growing impatience was making her strides big, her pace quick. Her eyes were open. But instead of the road ahead of her, she could only see Ainsworth’s sneer of entitlement. “How much did you pay him?”

He stuttered, “I don’t know. 10% of his salary? And a bonus of four thousands bucks?”

Lister could only look skyward. “When was this? On what grounds does he deserve the raise and bonus?”

“He— He, um, his performance was magnificent in terms of managing the regional branches—”

“Do you seriously think that is a satisfactory way of answering? Please don’t tell me that’s how you talked to the probe team, too.”

“Um, okay…” So, he _ was _talking to the team like that. 

“When was this?” Lister enunciated each word, as though to compensate for his pitiable murmuring.

“Uh, about three months ago?"

“You mean right after the probe was announced, hmm?”

“Well, yes— But it’s a simple coincidence. It has absolutely nothing to do with the investigation.” The tone of his voice was starting to get whiny.

“Ainsworth.” She gave the first warning.

“No, Miss Lister. You have to understand, this is what those nasty investigators are saying, and is no way close to what happened in reality.”

"_Ainsworth_."

"I swear to you, Miss Lister. They've only added this to the probe to taunt me, because they don't like me. I am innocent."

Lister had arrived at the exit of the park. Although Ann's house was across the street, she continued to pace on the other side. “I don’t know, Ainsworth. You are hanging by a very thin thread here. At this point, I might believe a talking eggplant more than any word you bother uttering.”

Silence. 

“But, eggplants can’t talk—”

“I know that! And now I hopelessly wish you were one!”

Her growl got Argus to stop prancing and sit. Ann’s neighbour was out in his garden, and he looked up from his flowers, his watering can left hanging in the air. 

With a deep breath, Lister regained her calm, crossed the street, and returned home. She looked at her wrist watch. “It’s midnight there, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “Well, don’t expect to have much sleep tonight. We'll talk more later.” And she hung up. 

In the following silence, she leaned against the wall as the gloominess of the house crawled over her skin. It fused with the sweat, making her shiver in disgust. Her day was ruined, and it hadn’t even started yet. Now, the idea of a relaxing morning cup of tea only depressed her. 

She showered, fed the dog, and changed into her work clothes, all in ten minutes and left for the office. There was no need for caffeine capsules today. Anxiety billowed within her, not allowing her—body and mind—to remain still. 

Since the beginning of the probe, Ainsworth had only been digging his own grave deeper and deeper. And now, as if that was not enough, he was digging another grave next to his. For Lister. All the decisions she had made for the past three months weighed heavy on her shoulders. 

Had she made a mistake by believing in Ainsworth? —No. It could not be called a mistake. She had never actually had faith in him from the beginning. Only in Northwich. And she still believed in it. The firm was still salvageable. The situation was manageable. She had not made any mistake. 

Booth, too, seemed more agitated than usual, and his effort to conceal it made him look even more piteous. He must’ve skipped his breakfast to rush to the office. His stomach growled every now and then, always ending with a boom that sounded like a terribly tuned oboe.

“The media have already contacted us, asking for comments,” he said. “We should be grateful, at least, for Washington's friend, I guess…"

Lister paced to and fro. “Contingency plans exist for events like this. We will follow them, and we will be fine. Are your people here yet?”

Booth nodded. “Waiting for your orders, ma’am.”

Orders. Decisions. Despite all the flitting thoughts, no useful idea came to her. It was pure chaos. She paused behind one of the couches and gripped the back of it, feeling the metallic framework underneath the cushions. 

It was when they heard a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Lister said.

The door opened, and Washington walked in. A strand of his un-gelled hair fell into his eye as he plopped down next to Booth on the couch. As though more air of despair had wafted in with him, the temperature of the office dropped. In silence, the three of them hung their heads.

“Have you talked to the board?” Washington said.  
“We’re having an emergency meeting in the afternoon,” Lister said.

A long, strangled sigh escaped his mouth. “What a…” But he shut his mouth.

“You can curse, Washington. Your wife isn’t listening.”

Washington closed his eyes tightly with a groan. “Prick,” he said as if to squeeze it out of him. 

“Indeed,” Lister said. But she straightened her back when she noticed how weak her voice had come out. “Did you talk to your friend after that?”

“Yes, I did,” Washington said.

“What did they say?”

“She said that… they have strong evidence and might issue a warrant of arrest in a couple of days' time. When are you flying to New York City?” Washington said.

“Tomorrow,” Lister said, “the first thing in the morning. And depending on how the talk with Ainsworth would turn out— No. It doesn’t depend on anything. I’ll go to hear his side of the story for the sake of it, but I will sack him. Northwich cannot be rebuilt otherwise.” She could only hope she could talk to both Ainsworth and the State Attorney in time. She looked at Booth. “So, the statement.”

Booth fumbled with his notepad. “Yes. Given that we have yet to have a full picture, the best we could do at this point is to emphasise the fact that we’re actively taking action.”

“Like always,” Lister said and frowned. “Add to it that we, Shibden Group, had nothing to do with this. This was the act of a rogue, and we will cooperate with the Attorney’s office as appropriate.”

“Yes,” Booth said. “But it’s best not to sound defensive. We need to act assertively, but not aggressively. Um… Some people are questioning your leadership, ma’am. We have to prove them wrong.”

Lister nodded along, though she found herself feeling indifferent to it, more than ever. If people wanted to whine about her, so be it. It was nothing new. The only thing that mattered was her board of directors. And she knew, their views on her leadership could turn 180 degrees in the blink of an eye if she failed to handle this right. No mistake allowed.

She went to stand by the window. Gazing at the city below, she realised she had forgotten to kiss Ann goodbye this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ainsworth: *in his bitchiest voice* Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.


	19. Falling in love and all that nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW as in, Don't cry in public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is served. (idek this can be called angst at this point. it's pure agony :/ I'm going to take a nap for a year.)  
TW: um, a major heartbreak

And the situation, complicated as it already was, seemed to grew even more so inside her head. 

What was Lister going to do about Ann? Oh, Lord, what must she do about her? They had not exchanged a word about the trip to the States yet, even though the renewed passport had been sitting on the nightstand since its delivery. Lister had been delaying the inevitable conversation, thinking they’d had more time— The decision had to be made today. 

That evening after a tumultuous day, Lister purchased a flower wreath—already assembled, as opposed to bouquets. She’d rather go home early than spending time consulting with the florist—and went home. Another package sat on the doorstep. Inside the living room, Ann was sitting by the window, as usual. 

Lister sat next to her, gave a kiss on the forehead, and placed the wreath on Ann’s lap. “Look, isn’t this gorgeous? Smells divine, too.”

But Ann didn’t even respond with a shrug. The void in her eyes seemed deeper than usual. 

“How are you?” Lister said, drawing the delivered package closer to open it. 

“They haven’t come out.”

Turning her head around, Lister saw Ann’s gaze fixed on the flower pot. The soil had no hint of green. “I see, but the seed package said to give them two weeks.” 

“I know that,” Ann said. “But I thought there’d be, at least, one sprout today. I put them in the sun. I water them. I give them a fertiliser.”

“Yes, but still, they need time.” Though Ann’s sharp tone threw her off slightly, Lister did her best to conceal it as she pulled a Teddy Bear out of the package. “Hey, look. I got you a Teddy Bear.” She replaced the wreath with the soft toy. “She’s got a top hat on, and a waistcoat. Sadly she doesn’t have a cane, but perhaps you could make one for her? And she smells of lavenders. Isn’t she pretty? You should name her.”

To Lister’s relief, Ann pressed her face to it. Her eyes closed, but then, a crease appeared between her brows, followed by tears bedewing her eyelashes. She said something into the bear.

“What is it?” Lister said.

Ann raised her face slightly. “What if none of them ever comes out?” Her eyes darted to the flower pot again. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong. Maybe they are already dead under there.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to her own words.

“Of course, they are not.” Lister pulled her into her arms and, with the bear between them, swayed their bodies together. 

“How would you know that?”

Out of words, Lister pressed her lips against her forehead. Their lips met as Ann tilted her head upward. Within seconds, their kisses turned from chaste into fervid. Ann demanded more with the sort of desperate zeal that sometimes came with unbearable sorrow, wrapping her thin arms around Lister’s neck. Lister felt like she was drowning. 

Lister pulled away and offered a smile. “Dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“No? Okay.” Lister remained patient. “I tell you what. Why don’t you take a shower, or a bath. You will feel refreshed.”

Ann seemed to ponder it. “Will you join me?”

Lister gave a nod. 

So, with a last glance at the flower pot, Ann got up and went upstairs with the Teddy Bear.

Her footsteps faded away. Lister looked down at the flower wreath and the now-empty cardboard box. Left on the floor haphazardly. Despite her effort to stay undeterred, she couldn’t help feeling underappreciated. It was fine. She was doing this for Ann, not for her own ego.

Tonight. She would have to talk about the trip tonight. Perhaps after the dinner. Or, maybe, right before going to bed. But could they ever reach an agreement, when they couldn’t even have a satisfactory conversation? If Ann were to insist on accompanying her, would Lister have the time or emotional capacity to look after her? But even if Ann chose to stay in London, there was nobody who could take care of her. Except—

Lister cast a wary eye at the flower pot. The embodiment and cause of Ann’s suffering. She took out her phone and texted Eugénie.

_ Have lavender seedlings delivered to house asap_.

As soon as she hit the send button, the phone rang. She accepted the call. “Marian. I was about to call you.”

“Oh, alright. Daily checkup,” Marian said. “How’s she? She hasn’t texted me back again for a couple of days.” 

“Well, she’s…” Lister couldn’t help but sigh into the receiver. “The lavender seeds we got as a takeaway gift at the service. She cries everyday that they haven’t sprouted, even though I tell her every time that it takes time.”

“That’s how she grieves. It’s only been like a month, right? Give her time.” Marian did not sound unkind. 

“I know.” 

“What’s the situation with therapy?”

“We made an appointment this weekend. But right now, we still have some of the meds left.” Lister shook her head. “I should’ve realised it sooner. She had been struggling since the news, and it never occurred to me.”

Marian hummed. “Spilled milk. Do what you can right now instead.”

But Lister didn’t know what to do. “She, um…” She glanced in the direction of the stairs, but decided Ann could wait a little bit more. “We got some trouble with Northwich, and I have to fly tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning? That’s urgent. Is Annie coming with you?”

“That’s… I haven’t told her yet. I’m going to. But, I was wondering, could you perhaps come and look after her? If she decides to stay, that is. Mrs. Cordingley comes in everyday, but she doesn’t know Ann that much.”

“Of course, I could. I’d do anything for her. Dad and Auntie can surely take care of themselves for a few days. Let me know when you talked to her.”

It felt like a giant sack of weights rolled off her shoulders. “Good. Good. Thank you.”

“I might pop in even if she doesn’t need me. I miss her. Talking on the phone isn’t the same as being in the same room.”

“I think she’ll like that.”

“And,” Marian said, “how are you?”

At that, Lister felt tears prick her eyes. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to keep them at bay, but in vain. She could not help it. "You know, the memorial service…” With a lump in her throat, she made her best effort to keep her voice steady. “It was by the sea. A sunny day, and… It reminded me of mum’s funeral, the little I know of it.”

“Oh, Anne—”

“I’ve been thinking since then, what I wanted from other people at that time, so I could do the same for her. But… I shut everyone out, didn’t I? I didn’t let anybody help me.”

“Well, no. You didn’t have anyone to rely on.”

“But I had Aunt. I knew she wanted to help. I just refused it, thinking nobody could understand my pain… I’m scared that the same thing might be happening to Ann.” To her own horror, a sob escaped her throat. “Nothing I can give her is enough. She’s shutting me out, and I don’t know how to comfort her. I can’t lose her.”

For a prolonged moment, Marian remained silent on the other end of the phone. “Where’s she now?”

“Upstairs, taking a bath.”

“Well, then, go upstairs and talk to her. Tell her what you just told me.”

“I can’t burden her with my shit. I need to stay strong for her.”

“That’s not—” Marian let out a groan. “I promised her not to tell you this, but… Screw it. She misses you, too. She wants to talk to you, but doesn’t know how. But she can’t tell you that because, guess what, she’s afraid to be a bigger bother.”

The aching of her heart rendered Lister speechless. “She must think I hate her.”

“You know, you may think you have to be this saviour, her knight in shining armour. But sometimes, seeing the vulnerable side of someone like you can be more empowering than anything else. Be inside the shell with her, instead of trying to pull her out of it. Show her what an actual hot mess you are.”

Lister recalled what Ann had told her a while ago. 

_ You’ve always been like a literal star to me, so far out of reach. Now, you feel much closer. You feel human_.

“Okay,” Lister said. “I’ll try.”

“Mmhmm. Keep your words to a minimum, though. You tend to say something weird when you do something you’re not used to.”

Lister laughed, finally feeling her own body relax. “Oh, Marian. Tell me, how did you come to be this wise?”

“Well, I have all the extra time to think while you guys are busy falling in love and all that nonsense.”

“Yeah, you are at an advantage there.” Lister felt hesitant, but mustered enough courage to say, “Thank you.”

They said goodbye and hung up the phone. Although this conversation had taken longer than Lister had planned, it was worth it, worth making Ann wait. Possibly for the first time in her life, she felt grateful for her sister’s tenacious nosiness. 

After a glance at the barren flower pot, Lister stood from the still and walked up the stairs. She texted Eugénie. 

_ Never mind that_.

She would wait, would be in it with Ann. To be vulnerable, it might take more time and a lot more of courage. But Lister was going to try anyway, for Ann. 

First, the talk about the trip.

The grandfather’s clock by the bathroom chimed. It was telling the wrong time again. The clocks had to go back an hour for winter time as well. Not today. She would fix it when she returned from the States, Lister made the mental note as she opened the door to the bedroom.

Ann had not gotten in the shower yet. Instead, she was sitting on the bed with her back facing the door, the Teddy Bear lying on its side behind her. Her head snapped around to look at Lister. In her hands was a book. No— It wasn’t a book, Lister realised. 

It was her journal.

Lister almost jumped her, snatching it from her hands. More forcefully than intended, but she couldn’t think. “Why are you—” she said in the calmest voice she could put on. “This is my journal.”

“It was unlocked.” The expression on Ann’s face was blank.

Lister wanted to cry. Instead, she forced a smile. “That doesn’t mean you could read it.” 

Still, no apology or excuse.

With trembling hands, Lister locked the journal and put it back in her bag. It’d be best to pretend it hadn’t happened. The more quickly they forgot, the better.

“You haven’t showered— taken a bath yet, have you?” Lister flashed a smile and went to the bathroom, turning on the forcet. As warm water filled the tub, she lingered in the doorway. “Marian called. She was worried about you. I think she’ll be relieved to get a short text from you after this, or now, whichever you like, if you like.” 

Ann’s eyes slowly met hers. “I know,” she said.

For what felt like an eternity, Lister could neither blink nor look away. _ Know _. About Marian, surely—

“I read it.”

The residual tears from earlier resurfaced and threatened to spill over. But Lister still smiled. “About what?”

“Everything.” A twin tear rolled down Ann’s cheek in silence. 

Everything. What a loaded word. But which _ everything_? Yesterday's entry about her frustrations towards Ann's incessant crying, or the one from last week about her regret for attending the memorial service and memories of her own mother, or the sporadic mentions of Mariana, or— 

Lister found herself moving forward, cupping Ann’s cheeks. “I love you.”

And for a moment, Ann looked like she was going to say it back, wrapping her fingers around Lister’s wrists with the ghost of a smile. But then, she let out a despondent laugh. “There was once a time when everything you said sounded like gospel. Even your lies, I wanted them, because they were part of you, too.”

“It’s not a lie, Ann. I’m not lying.”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. The happiness you gave me was real while it lasted, right?” She nuzzled her cheek into Lister’s palm, before letting her head sink into the mattress, her forehead pressed into it. “But I can’t— I can’t. It hurts.”

There was nothing Lister could do but to watch her from the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor. What had just happened? She had only come into the room less than a minute ago. The room was filled with the sound of Ann’s crying. The water filling the bathtub. 

Ann mumbled something into the sheets.

"What?"

“Marry me,” Ann said, “or is it my shares you want?” 

Shares. This single word hit her in the head like a brick. And only in that moment, the meaning of ‘everything’ dawned on her. Shares of stock in the Rawsons.

Without looking up, Ann shook her head. “I don’t know how, but I will figure it out and give them to you, because that’s the only thing I could ever do for you. I don’t have anything else to offer. Nothing I do is enough. All I do is take, take, _ take _from you.” 

Lister flinched at the tangible desperation in that last sentence, and found herself paralysed in fear. She managed to rise to her feet, but sank down onto the armchair behind her. All the sounds in the room vanished. The only thing she could see was her knees.

How could this have happened? What was going on? This must be a dream. A nightmare. 

In the harassing darkness, Ann’s laughter echoed. She looked up.

Ann was sitting up now. There was a twisted smile across her tear-soaked face. “I can't make you happy in any way, can I?”

And it was over, Lister knew in that instant. She heard it crumble away. There’d been a chance to save it a few seconds ago, their hands still holding each other’s, hanging off the cliff. Not anymore. That moment had passed, had been missed. 

“No, wait.” Lister still clung to it. “Let me think. I’m thinking. I’m—”

But even just to say what Ann wanted to hear—whatever it was—she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Any kind of additional attempt would be meaningless. Shares of stock. Marriage… Her brain didn’t compute fast enough. What was the correct option? Arrows randomly intersected in a contingency plan diagram in her mind. She needed Washington and Booth.

“I’m thinking…”

And in the midst of the muddle, her mind began to make a calculation. The marriage proposal was born out of despair. If she said yes to it now, it would trap her forever. Ann’s presence, with a wedding ring on her finger, would always be a reminder of this moment, this sense of guilt. Then, was saying yes to the proposal the only way to get the shares? Wait, no. Ann had just dropped that option of marriage, hadn’t she? Ann was a lost cause, but the stock shares— They didn’t have to be. 

That was the conclusion that her unconsciousness drew in that split second.

She had never been more disgusted with herself.

…

For the first time in months, Lister slept alone in her own bed. Everything in her house felt wrong and strange. It felt as though she was staying in a hotel suite. Expensive, but lifeless. She missed home. The earlier scene rolled around her head. She rummaged through her alcohol cabinet and drowned her thoughts in alcohol, crying herself to sleep. 

But the sweet release from reality didn’t last long. An unidentifiable sound cut through her dreamless sleep, and she opened her eyes to hear her phone ringing somewhere in the bedroom. In a somewhat delirious state of mind, she crawled out of bed and found the device illuminating in the darkness, in the pocket of her trousers crumpled up on the floor.

It was past two in the morning. On the too bright screen, Marian’s name flickered and blinded her. She accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear without a word.

“Because you are my sister,” Marian said in a quivering voice. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and give you a chance to explain yourself.” 

Lister squeezed her eyes shut to hold back her tears.

“Hello?”

“It’s all true,” Lister said, slumping onto the edge of the bed. “Whatever she said to you is all true.”

Marian didn’t say a word for a while. “About the Rawsons' shares, too?”

“Yes.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Anne— God, this is exactly why you people are messed up!"

“Us people?” Lister willed herself to hit back.

“I don't mean lesbians. I mean non-aromantic people! You guys pull that sort of bollocks and take advantage of people’s feelings and proceed to accuse us of being the heartless ones. How is that fair?” Marian sniffled once and burst out in tears. “How is that fair?”

Lister had to press the phone to the side of her neck in order to muffle her own sob. 

“If you take the shares,” Marian said, “I’m never speaking to you again. Do you hear?”

Still, no word could come out of Lister’s mouth. 

“Anne.”

_ Nothing I do is enough. All I do is take, take, _ take _ from you_. 

“Anne. Why are you like this?” 

It was not a question. It was a plea, the one Lister wished could reach out to her in her own madness and monstrosity.

It could not.

…

After that phone call, Lister drifted in and out of sleep, waking up in a cold sweat to the emptiness of the bed. She tried to go back to sleep. Back to the dream filled with Ann’s smile and yearning gaze. 

It was such a cliche to say she felt a gaping hole in her chest. But she did. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. Nothing good could ever come out of midnight musing.

Was Ann asleep at this very moment? With the Teddy Bear in her arms, feeling Lister’s side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold? Had she eaten? Had she taken her medication? Had she put on skin cream, as the dry season was starting to make her skin chapped? Would she give Lister a bell in the morning, thinking it had all been a dream? Whatever the case, Lister hoped, at least, she was at the mercy of dreamless sleep now.

And it was only then when she realised, she had left Argus at Ann’s house. Had Lister fed him dinner before all that? She traced her memory, but the tempest in her head buried that detail deep in rubble. He must’ve thought Lister had abandoned him. Stupid. Not only Ann, but Lister had failed Argus, too. And now, the pang of guilt blew away the lingering sleepiness.

But perhaps, it was a good thing that Argus was there. Yes, that was a silver lining. Ann didn’t have to be alone in that house.

Lister checked the time on her phone. Two thirty-three. She might as well get up now. Floating in this precarious in-between space of consciousness exhausted her both physically and mentally, not what anyone wanted from sleep. 

Thoughts began racing through her mind again. She didn’t want to be alone.

So, she dug through her call history, turning a blind eye to Marian’s and Ann’s names, and called Mariana.

“Freddie? What’s wrong?”

From that first drowsy word spoken, however, Lister knew this voice wouldn’t bring her the repose she needed. 

“Nothing,” Lister said. “Never mind.” 

Hanging up, she sat up and stared into the void before her. The silence deafened her. She found herself trying to hold onto the sound of Ann’s laughter in the earlier dreams. Her carefree, idyllic laughter that could get Lister laughing, too. When was the last time Lister had heard that sound in the real world? 

There seemed to be no escape. 

And as the memories of last night flashed across her mind without mercy, she recalled the trip to the States. She hadn’t packed yet. What a cosmic joke it was— If it hadn’t been for this sleep limbo, she might have overslept and missed the most important flight of her career. And in this torment, it was beneficial that she had something to do.

Since her suitcase always sat in the walk-in closet, ready for an emergency, packing itself didn’t pose much of a challenge. But this was not a regular business trip. This was the trip that her career depended on, and she had nothing to wear. All of her favourite articles of clothing were in Ann’s closet. She would have to settle for her mediocre clothes, no matter how regrettable it was. Retrieving her passport from her safe, she put it in her briefcase. The preparation lasted less than five minutes.

Inside her briefcase, however, her fingers brushed against the lock on her journal. Her goddamn journal. She took it to her study, sat at her desk, and stared it down. The combination lock made calming clicking noises as she played with it, rotating the dials, changing the numbers. She opened the journal, closed it, and opened it over and over again.

Then, a question popped into her mind. Was Ann telling the truth when she said the journal had been unlocked? If so, did that mean Lister had forgotten to lock it? Or, if Ann was lying, how had she managed to unlock it?

_ It doesn’t matter anymore_, Ann had said.

Right. It didn’t matter. Her own handwriting graced the pages as hard facts. The irreversible past. Even if she were to rip the pages out and burn them, nothing would change. 

It was over.

On impulse, she stomped out of the study, threw on a jacket at the door, grabbed her keys, and walked out. Her Bugatti roared into the empty skies. The night breeze of winter blew into her face through the wide-open windows. But Lister didn’t feel a sting of coldness, only feeling her dishevelled hair flapping in the wind. Streetlights and lines of the road passed her by in a blur, like the time warp scene in a sci-fi film.

And as though it was a real time warp, thirty minutes vanished in the blink of an eye, and she found herself on the outskirts of London. The only source of light was her headlights, the world only visible in the narrow circle of light. But this was a familiar road.

The silhouette of an old house from the Victorian era came into view. With all the lights off, it looked like a haunted mansion. Lister parked her Bugatti in the driveway, got out of the car, and rang the doorbell twice. For one forever, she waited, staring at the lion door knocker that had no practical function these days. Her teeth were clattering. As her hand rose for the doorbell, the light came on inside.

Mariana peeked out through the gap in the door. “Freddie, what’s going on?” Her eyes were barely open. 

"Just, I was in the neighbourhood.” 

“It’s three in the morning.” Nonetheless, Mariana opened the door wider.

Lister plodded in. “I hope I didn’t wake up Charles.”

There was a pause. “He’s at the hospital.”

“Oh— God, I’m— I totally forgot.” 

“It’s fine,” Mariana closed the door. “Why don’t you go upstairs. I’ll make you a cup of cocoa.”

So, Lister went up to her bedroom and, without turning the lights on, located a couch by the window. The air smelled of Mariana, her perfume and a hint of Charle’s cologne. The dim moonlight illuminated the bed. There had been once a time when this whole house was the embodiment of her nightmare. A long time ago. Nine years ago, when their marriage had shattered Lister’s dreams. 

Lister sat there with a broken heart all the same. But now, this place was her only refuge. 

Mariana came back with a cup of cocoa. Handing it to Lister, she lay down on the bed. “So, what got you fucked up?”

Lister laughed. “What makes you think I’m fucked up?” 

“What doesn’t make me think you’re fucked up? It’s three in the morning. You hate this place. You swore to never come back five years ago and have been doing a good job of staying away since. You came despite thinking Charles would be here. And…” Mariana stifled a yawn. “Spill it. I don’t have all night.”

Lister sipped the warm beverage. Now that she had someone to talk to, she didn’t know if she wanted to talk at all. “I’ve made a monster of myself.”

“Have you? What did you do?”

“Broken a heart.”

“...Whose?”

But Lister couldn’t bring herself to utter her name. Even though it was ingrained in her mind, her tongue still refused to remember the taste of it, the shape of that name. “The one…” _ That got away_. “The Rawson girl.”

Mariana stayed quiet. “Right. And, what did you do?”

“She… I… I don’t know what happened. But she read my journal, read everything I wrote about her.” Lister shook her head, shaking tears away. And as Ann let out that desperate kind of laughter in her ears, the same sound fell from her own lips. “The thing, though, is that… I didn’t fully understand until she actually mentioned the stock. It was my own scheme, and I forgot about it. I’ve tried to keep it in mind. But then, when I was with her, nothing else mattered.” The familiar, warm, tender feeling spread through her heart before dissipating in the next beat. “She could’ve made me so happy. And I screwed it up.”

Neither of them spoke after that. The cocoa had turned cold, and Lister continued to let tears fall. Mariana fell asleep at one point, snoring softly as she always had done. 

At five o’clock, Lister finally stood up. She caressed Mariana’s head and managed to smile when she stirred slightly in her sleep. Quietly she left the house and drove back home, and drove to the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'd like to remind everybody that the phone call about Ainsworth in the last chapter and this whole chapter happened in one (1) day. 🙄 Talk about a life reduced to ashes in a flash. Let's call this a Pompeii life ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	20. I hated to think you were ever the wrong choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to JaneC again. Because of your wonderful insights, this story has more agony than I originally planned 💪

She slept through most of the seven-hour-long flight. No nightmares disturbed her sleep, though whenever the plane was hit by air turbulence, Eugénie’s occasional strings of curses did wake her. From under her eye mask, she would glare at her assistant. But she would go back to sleep quickly, before the weight of reality could crush her consciousness.

New York City in November was not cold, but Lister found the weather drearier than that in London. The border between the gray sky and the concrete skyscrapers was barely discernible. It looked like it would start pouring at any moment.

It was ten in the morning. They had left London at seven. They had travelled for seven hours, only to have spent three hours. This always messed with her head. One of the things she hated about travelling to America, amongst many things. She much preferred flying half around the globe.

She would kill for a refreshing shower. Her eyes were puffy, and her head felt as though her heart was pounding inside the skull. But there was no time—not even a second—to waste. They had their luggage sent to their hotel and drove straight to Northwich headquarters.

Vulture journalists flocked around the building, and around Lister’s car the moment they spotted it. Their driver groaned as the flashes of cameras blinded him. They called to Lister through the windows. Every time Lister looked away from one camera, another met her gaze. Her headache worsened. 

The air inside the headquarters felt tense, as it should have. The murmurs of people died down the moment Lister strode in, cutting through the vast lobby with the camera flashes behind her. In that charged silence, she felt the return of her strength. 

She was Anne Lister, one of the Forbes Celebrity 100. This suspicion of bribery was surely a nuisance, but an insignificant termite like Ainsworth could never get in her way. She was too powerful for that. She would talk to him and sack him. And she would rise above it. 

The termite welcomed her in his office. The place looked more like a bunker, though, with the curtains closed despite the dim lighting, so much that one might assume Ainsworth was preparing for the apocalypse. In a way, he was. 

“Miss Lister, ma’am.” He gave her a tepid handshake.

It had been about two years since the last time they had met in person, and Lister had forgotten how much of a stinker this man was. A repugnant mixture of cigarette smoke, his body odour, and his cologne that he had probably been using since the 80’s. Some memories were better off buried deep in oblivion, Lister thought. And good Lord, his oral hygiene. As he exhaled, Lister smelled alcohol on his breath.

She sat herself on the largest couch. “How long have you been drinking?” 

“No.” He sank into the couch opposite to her, holding a glass of amber liquid. 

No additional comment came. But his whiny tone was eloquent enough to know he was on the cusp of throwing a tantrum.

Lister rummaged through her bag, found her case of mints, and shook a few out into her palm. “Mints?” She gave Ainsworth two after popping one into her mouth. 

“Oh, thank you.” He took them and, as though they were pills, washed them down with his beverage. 

This was getting ridiculous.

“Have you talked to your employee today?” Lister said. “Or the probe team?”

Ainsworth snickered as he shook his head. “Let’s not jump into this, Miss Lister. We don’t get to chat like this often. How was your flight?”

“As much as this—”

“You just arrived, is that right? Aren’t you jet-lagged? Have you eaten breakfast yet? Early lunch?”

Ann’s smile flashed across her mind. 

“I never eat lunch,” Lister said through clenched teeth. She stood up and walked around the office. “As much as this reunion delights me, Ainsworth, it is as extravagant to borrow time as to borrow money. So, let us talk. I have to fly to Texas in two hours.”

In a flash, all the veneer of mirth vanished from Ainsworth’s face. He leaned back on the couch and let out a sulky huff. “It’s no use talking to that bitch.”

Lister turned a deaf ear to the derogatory term. “Who is that you’re referring to?”

“The State Attorney General. Jones. Whatever her fucking name is. She never listens to me. No matter how many times I tell her that this is a witch hunt, she never believes me.”

“They have strong evidence.”

“They made it up,” he said. “Or— Or, they are manipulated.”

“By whom?”

“By Chappelle.”

Lister did not hold back her huge sigh. This was why she hated children. “Who is Chappelle?”

“My lying employee.” Ainsworth rolled his eyes. 

Lister did not care for his attitude one bit. “Tread carefully, Ainsworth. You’re not the only one who’s close to losing it here.” She waited until Ainsworth ducked his head. “So, have you talked to this Chappelle?”

“No, ma’am. I tried, but he said he couldn’t talk. The Attorney’s office advised him against it. It’s complete bullshit.” His speech started out as a mumble. Then, possibly without him noticing, he began to raise his voice again. 

“Is there any reason why he might want to conspire against you, if you are so innocent as you say?” 

Ainsworth shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s their job to— The Twitter woman. The bi— The woman that’s claiming to be harassed by me. She and Chappelle must be related, or having an affair. They must be working together.” 

It was painful to watch him blurt out excuse after excuse as it popped into his mind, blaming everyone else but himself, still holding on to the hope that he could be saved. 

"That's a very flimsy argument," Lister said. 

"But it's true! I mean, it could be true."

"Nobody will buy it. You know it's not true. You just came up with it."

"That doesn't mean it can't be true." His face was all red. "I'll tell them, and they investigate and might really find something."

"Tell them? Are you sure?"

“Yeah, I am. I am going to fucking tell them.”

Lister looked him square in the eye. “Suit yourself. But remember, they don’t know about the sexual allegation. Not yet. You want to drag this poor woman into this mess, you’d have to explain why she might want to frame you. And regardless of whether this allegation is true or not, it’s only rational to assume they would add it to the investigation.”

“But, I—” But he shut his mouth as the realisation hit him. In despair, he emptied his glass in one gulp and set it down on the table loudly. “How could this happen to me? I am being framed.” His voice shook. In his eyes were now tears. 

Although she couldn’t care less about his life that was about to end, something about his plea tugged at her heartstrings very slightly. 

But then, he said, “It’s because he’s black and I’m white. I’m a victim of racial discrimination.”

It was useless to ask who Ainsworth was referring to this time. Lister felt sick to her stomach that, even for a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to pity this poor excuse for a human being, that she had called this man a ‘friend’ for the past two years. 

“I think we are done here, Ainsworth. I will tell your board of directors to start looking for a new CEO.” She walked back to the couch for her bag.

He looked up with new desperation in his eyes. “No. Please, don’t go.” 

“I can’t save you. Up until yesterday I had a sliver of hope, even if it was just you and me against the world. But now I see I had too much faith in you— In myself.” She turned on her heel and headed to the door. Another second in this room, and she might get sick.

“This was all your fault,” he said in a mumble.

With her hand on the doorknob, Lister slowly turned around. “Watch your mouth, Ainsworth. I’m the one who has sheltered you through this shitstorm.”

He looked up with a curled lip. “No, I would’ve been fine without you. Now I’m going to jail for doing exactly what you told me to do!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Laying her bag aside, she marched toward him, towering over him. “When the bloody hell did I ever order, or even imply, that you create fake accounts, huh?”

“I’m not talking about— I’m talking about the… bribe!”

“When exactly did I tell you to bribe your bloody employee?” 

“When— When we talked on the phone that afternoon!” Ainsworth made frantic gestures towards the windows, to the outside world. “When we learned of the probe, you told me not to let any of my employees talk to the investigators—"

"And your idea of deterrence was bribery?” 

“I’m going to tell them about you—”

Lister erupted in laughter. His stupidity was not news to her, but somehow he had managed to take it to such a new level that, in spite of everything, it became comical. She laughed, listened to the sound reverberate, and let herself consumed by the absurdity of it all. But once the furious hilarity relented, she was left with nothing but a sense of emptiness. 

She raised her head. Ainsworth seemed properly bewildered by her inexplicable outburst, and a little scared as well.

What a joke her life had become.

“Tell them whatever you please,” she said. “Try, I dare you. I have nothing to lose. Not even shame. I’ve ruined so many lives to get here. My board is probably going to replace me when I get back. So, if you think this is what I deserve, then—” She laughed. “Why don’t we see how much further you can drag me down?”

Silence fell in the office. The ticking of a clock on the wall sounded too loud in her ears. On the other side of the thin door, his secretary was talking to someone on the phone. There was a helicopter—these bloody vultures—hovering around the building, its rumble vibrating the walls and windows. 

Ainsworth said nothing, no longer daring to meet her gaze. He just hung his head and did not move, as though he had drawn his last breath in the sitting position.

Lister left the headquarters through the backdoor. As she got in the car, a billboard in front of her caught her eye. Wicked the musical on Broadway. She and Ann had made a plan to watch that.

… 

Now that the meeting with Ainsworth was over, the thought of Ann occupied her mind. 

Her personal phone was buried deep in her suitcase pocket. Although she was keenly aware of its presence, she felt too scared to check it. Scared of what, however, she couldn’t put a finger on. Seeing messages from Ann or not seeing anything. 

The most trivial things reminded her of Ann.

Austin, Texas, offered no solace, either. As their car drove to a Shibden-owned hotel for the meeting with the probe team, Lister watched the passing scenery outside the window. An Italian restaurant, Italy was where her sister had died. An Indian restaurant, Ann’s curry. There was a dog, which reminded her of Argus, who was with Ann. Even when Lister arrived at the ostentatious hotel, the lobby had a grandfather’s clock that resembled the one in Ann’s house. 

Everything in the world had meaning, and it all seemed to lead to Ann. 

In a suite, she got the opportunity to shower at last. The scalding water washed off the stink of Ainsworth’s den, but however long she stood in the water, her thoughts never came off. Afterwards, she called Washington, briefing him on the conversation with Ainsworth. 

At four-thirty P.M., Eugénie let two investigators into the room. Their cheap suits irritated her. Lister didn’t hesitate to conclude that they cost less than the wallpapers of this suite alone. The moment they sat down opposite to her, she wished them gone.

And she took the matter accordingly. Talked to them about Ainsworth’s accusations, confirmed some evidence of the suspicion of bribery, relayed his accusation against herself.

“I don’t know how much he already spilled,” Lister said. “But he might tell you that the bribe was my idea.”

“It was not?”

“No.”

“But is it true that you ordered him to keep his employees from talking to us?”

“To be quite honest, officer,” Lister said, “I don’t recall everything I have said to him. Sometimes I do get excited. That’s a fact. But it was never my intention to put such an idea into his head.”

She answered questions on autopilot. It required much less brain power to speak truthfully, without weighing her words. For this, she felt grateful. 

She even gave away the Twitter lady and, by association, Ainsworth’s sexual allegation by accident. But in retrospect, this had played in her favour. Secrets and lies only would’ve brought about more calamity. There was no energy left in her to lie and maintain the lie with more follow-up lies. 

The investigators, though, must’ve anticipated a great deal of enthusiasm and perseverance from Lister. Her honest answers invited a look of bafflement once or twice. But they never asked what had caused the change in her attitude.

The meeting lasted for an hour. Right after the officers had walked out, Lister grabbed her suitcase and left the hotel. 

“Eugénie, I need you to write an email to Washington, Booth, and the board when we board the plane.” Lister said as their car headed to the airport. “I will dictate. And if the board wants a meeting, arrange that. Top priority.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What time will it be when we land in London?”

“Um, nine A.M.”

“Alright, get enough sleep during the flight. We will head straight to the office.” Lister watched the dark sky. “Let’s get out of here.” 

They flew back to London, putting an anticlimactic end to this short journey. 

…

During the eight hours that Lister had been up in the air, the Attorney General office had arrested Ainsworth on suspicion of bribery. That was the biggest news of the morning, it seemed. In the deserted corridors of Heathrow airport, TV screens showed his pathetic face on morning news programmes. And understandably, Lister’s work phone was inundated with missed calls from her people.

To her surprise, the board of directors did not want to arrange a meeting upon her return. Instead, Mrs. Priestley visited her office. Alone. Lister found this more unnerving than feeling the gaze of the whole board bore a hole in her face. It should make no difference, though. They both knew, even before it started, how this would end. 

“It didn’t go well, then,” Mrs. Priestley said.

“According to the media, no. It did not.”

“And the stock market agrees.” Mrs. Priestley had a calm demeanour as she walked around the place. “You do understand that we, as the board of directors who have sworn to serve the shareholders, cannot continue to let this ship sail under your charge any longer.” She sounded like a kindergarten teacher trying to soothe a kid in the middle of a tantrum. 

Lister nodded. “I took risks. A gamble I shouldn’t have taken.”

Mrs. Priestley let out a deliberate hum. “I’d be honest with you, Anne. We have been discussing this issue for some time now. Your ability to handle this specific situation, I mean. And, well, in the light of this morning's news, the other board members and I agreed that it’d be for the good of every party involved if I just came to you, in this manner, as your friend."

“Of course.”

“I don’t want any hard feelings between us.”

“I understand. Is this effective immediately?”

“Yes. As for your successor, we have reasons to believe that Mr. Washington is an ideal option. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Yes, I agree,” Lister said. “Have you talked to him?”

“We did. He accepted the offer.” Mrs. Priestley slowly came to where Lister sat. “And, I hate to be so quick off the mark and get technical, but—” She took a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Lister.

It had a list of companies on it. The Rawsons, and some other companies that rivalled Shibden Group. 

“Those are the companies that we could not, under any and all circumstances, let you go to,” Mrs. Priestley said and smiled. “You’d be a menace, despite what has happened in the last five months.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do next,” Lister said. “But you can rest assured that I would never dream of taking a role at any of these dreadful places.”

“Good.” Mrs. Priestley relaxed her shoulders, staring into space with a pensive knot between her brows. “You know, you took over Shibden shortly after I had joined the board. Hiring you was one of the biggest decisions I helped make as a new director. You were an already impressive young woman, but over the nine years, I have had the pleasure of watching you grow even more.” She shared a slight smile with Lister. “So, I can understand, I believe, how you might’ve felt defending Mr. Ainsworth. I hated to think you were ever the wrong choice.”

Lister could only hum in response, fiddling with the piece of paper.

“Nine years.” Mrs. Priestley released a soft sigh. “It might be time I retired, too,” she said almost to herself, before turning to Lister.

And they both extended their hands at the same time, and gave a firm handshake.

A nostalgic smile appeared across Mrs. Priestley’s lips. “It has been a great honour to work with you, Miss Lister. You are a very strong leader. I hope this won’t be the last I see of you.”

With a civil nod of the head, Lister let go of her hand and watched her leave the office. And as the door closed, the office regained its normality, as if it was a regular weekday. But the piece of paper sat on the desk, proving that it was anything but.

During the entire conversation, Lister had felt surprisingly calm. None of the exchange stirred hard feelings, as Mrs. Priestley had put it. That sense of serenity still dominated her, and she felt light on her feet as she went to Eugénie’s desk.

“I have been sacked.” Lister leaned against the door frame. “So, I need several people to help me move my stuff out.”

Eugénie’s face grewe pale. “Today, ma’am?”

“Yes, today. Now. And, tell Booth to come as soon as possible. We need to discuss how we handle this news.” Lister walked back in, but took steps back a moment later, fastening her face at her assistant. “You could go home after this if you’d like. It’s been a rough day. Washington’s assistant will take over your job, so you might need to assist them in that. But it’s not an urgent matter.”

Eugénie nodded and, with shaky hands and teary eyes, picked up the phone receiver. The grief that permeated the small section of the office almost made Lister laugh. She struggled to understand why her assistant might want to cry. 

And it was when it dawned on her that this was not a sense of calmness she was feeling, but emptiness. She couldn’t feel a damn thing.

…

Perhaps, this was because she had been preparing herself for this inevitability for the last few weeks on an unconscious level. Mrs. Priestley’s words had brought no shock. There was no denial or bargaining. These steps had been taken, it seemed, and there was only accepting to do.

The story of her career had such a thoroughly anticlimactic end. 

In the bathroom, she checked herself in the mirror. She looked old, just like those disgraced heads of companies she had always looked down upon and jested at. She had always pictured her fall, happening in some distant parallel universe, and imagined it would be with grace and beauty. Like Icarus. But she was just a human. A comically ugly human.

Booth and Lister decided that it’d be best for her to go as quietly as possible. Given the Northwich situation, the media would sniff it out in no time. A short statement as a formality would suffice. The public would connect the dots on their own. 

A moving team came in after that and began to stir up the dust. The heavy door was left open, allowing pegans access to the sanctuary. In the midst of the bustle of activity, Lister sat at her desk, with a glass of whiskey, and composed an email addressed to her business partners and another to her employees. 

“Got a minute?” There was a knock on the open door.

Lister looked up and invited Washington in. She stood up, went to the alcohol cabinet, and poured him a glass of his favourite bourbon. 

“Thank you,” he said as he took the glass. 

“I’m going to take these home.” Lister waved her hand at the bottles of alcohol. “But I will leave this one here”—She wrapped her fingers around the neck of his favourite bottle—“for a parting gift.”

A stiff smile gracing his features, Washington bowed his head. His gaze then travelled from the glass wall to the ceiling to the desk.

“It’s your office now,” Lister said. “How does that make you feel?”

“Nervous.”

Lister smiled against the rim of her glass. “You shouldn’t be. There are some necessary adjustments, of course. Moving into a new office is exactly like moving into a new house. Figuring out which thing goes where. Learning the quirks of your furniture… But let’s not ruin this moment like that, shall we? This is a celebratory occasion for you.”

Washington still looked reluctant “I have big shoes to fill.”

“And you will do fine. I regret having to leave everything on your shoulders like this. But I have faith in you—” Lister chuckled. “If my faith means anything at all.”

“It means the world to me, ma’am.” 

They sipped their drinks in silence, watching people come and go. Most of her personal items were art pieces and bottles of alcohol. Nothing essential. Still, the office looked so different without them, and the transformation left Lister in awe.

One man came to her. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Lister. Should we get that one in your car as well, or is it rubbish?” He pointed over his shoulder at the non-bin bin in the corner.

The emptiness in her buzzed at the sight of it.

“Miss Lister?”

Lister composed herself. “Yes, uh, it’s not… Put that one in my car. I’m taking that home.” 

With that the man turned his head around and nodded to his colleagues, who picked the bin up and removed it from the office.

“Treat it with extra caution, please,” Lister said to them through the door.

“That’s the last one, we think, ma’am,” the man said, making a quick sweep of the place. “Or is there anything else?”

Lister did the same, and shook her head. “No. Thank you. I’ll take care of the rest.”

When the man walked out, it was her and Washington alone in the office. Her glass still had liquor in it, but she could no longer enjoy it. The first breeze of a storm blew through her ribcage, caressing her heart into a palpitation. 

Washington put down his empty glass with a clink. “I’d better leave you now, Miss Lister. Thanks for the drink.”

“Of course.” Lister fixed her collar and, with a smile, shook his hand. “I wish you the best of luck, Washington.”

“It’s been an honour to work so closely with a magnificent leader like you. You’ve been a great mentor to me. I won’t disappoint you. We’ll keep in touch.” 

After he had walked out, Lister peeked out to see her assistant’s desk unoccupied. Eugénie seemed to have gone home. The whole floor was deserted except for her.

Lister walked from one corner of the office to another without an aim, dragging her hand across the wall. The image of the non-bin bin flashed through her mind. On, off, and on again. 

She sat at the desk to reply to emails. And when it was time to go home, out of habit, she checked her personal phone. It was the first time she did in the last twenty-four hours. The battery was about to run out. There was only one message, and it was from Mrs. Cordingley, informing her that Miss Walker had dismissed her. 

Ann had neither texted nor called her. Even now, after avoiding checking her phone for so long, Lister couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or hurt by this. The ambivalent storm began to bellow inside her, blowing away what was left of the semblance of serenity. 

She looked out the window. This view, that she had worked hard to obtain. The world below was far. She thought she could hear the sound of ocean waves. The old temption whispered in her ear to just jump.

She had been a strong leader. Washington and Mrs. Priestley had said so. 

But so what?

The world had always been like this for her. People feeling proud of her when she felt disappointed in herself. And people feeling disappointed in her when she felt proud of herself.

The red and yellow leaves had fallen off the trees. Autumn was slipping through her fingers. One entire season, lost. 

_ Marry me. _

She banged her fist against the window glass once. It did not shatter. She banged both fists this time. It only let out a dull thud. Her hands dully ached. And she screamed and cried and howled, until she slid to the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 3


	21. Don't forget your money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 here we come!

Lister floated in water, with her limbs spread out, her blank gaze up at the ceiling of her swimming pool. She had her ears submerged. The sound of water soothed her, and with her eyes closed, it felt as though she was free from her corporeal existence. As though suspended in time and space and everything the universe consisted of. She breathed out, and her body slightly sank as it grew heavier. She breathed in, and her body regained buoyancy.

The water, compressing her eardrums, whispered, _ Ann… _ _ Ann… _

Or was it her own name?

Her eyes only snapped open when she heard a noise outside the water. She raised her head. Her heart leaped into her mouth at the shadow of a person on the poolside. 

“Oh, good Lord!” the person said.

While waiting for her eyes to adjust, Lister shook water out of her ears. “Mariana? Jesus, you scared me.”

Mariana gestured at her. “Well, you scared _ me_!”

“I thought you were a burglar.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“Why?” Lister finally swam to the poolside and hoisted herself up. “Oh, because I got sacked? Did you think I’d get self-destructive because of that?”

“You certainly wouldn’t be the first person on earth to get hammered and drown by accident.” As Mariana spoke, her gaze travelled downward—therefore missing the wince Lister gave—slithering across Lister’s body, which was clad only in men’s swimwear. “But, you look… good. Better than I expected, to be honest.”

“I always look good.” Lister threw on a bathrobe and dabbed at her face with the sleeve.

“I was going to give you time," Mariana said. "I knew you would come to me when you were ready. But it’s been two weeks, and still no word whatsoever. Then, I called you several times today, but could only get voicemail—”

“You called? When?” Lister walked out of the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the hallways.

Mariana followed her. “This morning and this afternoon. You can’t blame me for thinking something might have happened.”

“I was swimming.” 

“Swimming. You mean since this morning?” Mariana scoffed. “You’re joking.”

They had arrived in the bedroom. Lister checked her phone left on the nightstand, and acknowledged several missed calls from Mariana. And that was all. No calls or text messages from anybody else. 

“Well, as you probably already know, Mariana, I have too much time on my hands.” Lister sat on the edge of the bed. “I signed the severance agreement a few days ago and got a proper compensation, which I’m very satisfied with, and now, I have no reason to go outside—”

"How's Miss Walker?"

For some seconds, Lister remained frozen and held her gaze in utter disbelief. All that managed to escape her lips was a strangled sigh.

"What?" Mariana said. "Have you talked to her?" 

"The audacity..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mariana said in an unapologetic tone. "If I remember correctly, you were beyond devastated the last time I saw you. And now there's this… thing, your career thing on top of it, that I got genuinely concerned. But how dare I mention her name, right?"

"Argus is with her."

"Oh?"

"I forgot to take him with me that night, and... It's been two weeks. I thought she would ring me up to tell me to fetch him, but she hasn't.”

“So, you were waiting, sulking.”

“I’m not sulking. I don’t sulk.” With a huff, Lister leapt to her feet, undid her bathrobe, letting it pool around her ankles, and yanked her swimwear down as well. And paying no heed to Mariana’s reaction to her nakedness, she stomped into her closet. 

She put on her clothes while she continued to deny Mariana’s remark inside her head. But her attention was snatched by the pile of cardboard boxes in the corner. From between the boxes, the non-bin bin peeped at her. A glimpse of its silver lid was enough to interrupt her train of thought. She turned her back on it.

“I mean, I’m simply struggling to wrap my head around it here,” Lister said. “Mrs. Cordingley said she had dismissed her, which clearly means she no longer wants to have anything to do with me. Then”—now fully clothed, she returned to the bedroom—“what the bloody hell is Argus still doing in her house?”

Mariana’s lips parted, but closed soon afterwards. A knowing smile appeared as she raised her eyebrows at Lister.

“Don't make that face,” Lister said. “You don't know shit.”

“Oh, I think I know what's going on.”

“No, you don't.”

“I think I do.”

“Well, you’re clearly wrong.”

Mariana’s smile turned tender. "I can go with you if you don't want to do it alone."

“Do what?”

“Go to Miss Walker’s house and get Argus back. It’s fine, Freddie. I understand that it can be frightening to think you might face further rejection—”

"I’m not frightened of anything. What am I, a five-year-old?" Lister brushed away the hand that was reaching for her own. “As I said, I’m simply waiting for her to contact me when she’s ready. I can go now if I deem it appropriate.”

“Now? Really?”

“Yes, now. Really.”

“Okay,” Mariana said. “Then, let’s do it. Two weeks of silence is long enough. I say it’s time you went.”

Lister knew what Mariana was doing. Egging her on. But at the same time, it was obvious she had bluffed herself into a corner. “Fine. In fact—” She returned to the walk-in closet, grabbed an empty suitcase, and made a display of it back in the bedroom. “I’ve been meaning to retrieve my clothes. They are very expensive.” She dragged it out of the bedroom.

“Splendid,” Mariana said, trailing behind her through. “Your dog and clothes, here we come.”

Lister stopped in her tracks and turned around. “You are not coming with me?”

“Believe you me, you will need someone to keep you safe when she sees you.”

“She isn’t violent like that.”

“You never know. Betrayal hurts more than any kind of damage inflicted by your enemy. And anger that was born out of sorrow can make people do some ugly stuff.”

Although Mariana’s nonchalant attitude gave her apprehension, Lister had to admit Mariana had a point. “Speaking from experience?”

Mariana gave a rather tired smirk. “Second-hand experience.”

“And why is that you think I can’t protect myself?”

With pursed lips, Mariana seemed to ponder, but shrugged at the end. “Maybe I just want to watch her rip you to shreds.”

…

Her Bugatti rolled through the bustle of the city. 

As Kensington grew nearer, Lister felt more and more restless. Not regretting her spontaneous, out-of-spite decision to do this. Just wishing she had more time to think. 

What should she say to Ann? For the last week, this question had been lurking at the back of her mind. She had yet to dare answer it. But out of all the possible scenarios that her brain had conjured up so far, Ann getting violent with her sounded the kindest and most straightforward one. 

Lister hit the brake at a red light. She looked out the window to distract herself. At the newspaper stand by the intersection, the name of Shibden Group was making front-page headlines. She looked away. And where she looked, there was a head of blonde hair. Her heart skipped a beat, but a moment later the head turned, showing their face that had no resemblance to Ann.

In the passenger seat, Mariana was on her phone. “I saw her photos on Instagram. Miss Walker. She’s cute. Lovely smile. I might go after her actually.”

Lister regarded her in silence. “What are you doing?”

“Expressing my personal opinion.”

“You’re trying to get on my nerves.”

Mariana rolled her eyes as she put her phone away. “Oh, I forgot I had these. Here.” She took a bag of sugar candies out of her bag and dangled it in front of Lister’s face. They were grape-flavoured. 

Lister took the whole bag and unwrapped one candy. “I told you I hate this flavour,” she said, popping it into her mouth, recoiling at the flavour that was an affront to humanity.

“You know, I deserve a thank-you,” Mariana said.

“Yes, thank you very much for your kind gift that makes me gag.”

“For putting up with your nonsense this entire time, you nitwit. First you confide in me with your stupid scheme and tell me later that you have grown fond of her, and then, you visit me in the middle of the night to sob that your scheme ruined your relationship!”

Lister, having no comeback, looked away, only to find the newspapers staring back. She glared at the traffic lights. This had to be the longest red light ever. 

“But I’m glad it’s over,” Mariana said. “How long did it last? Four months? Five? You would’ve driven me nuts if it had gone on any longer. Good Lord, this red light is so bloody long.”

Lister placed the candy between her molars, ready to crush it. 

“You know what we should do?” Mariana said. “We should travel. Let’s go somewhere warm and sunny. Maybe New Zealand. We could go on a Lord of the Rings tour.”

“For the hundredth time, Mariana, I don’t understand any of your movie talk—”

But everything disappeared when Lister caught, across the street, the sight of Ann as she was crossing the street. The world slowed down. She looked gorgeous, in the blue coat Lister had bought her, smiling down at Argus. It took Lister’s breath away. And when she realised this, she sucked in a breath. The candy flew to the back of her throat and threatened to go down together with air, seizing her with a violent fit of coughing.

Mariana stroked her on the back. “Are you alright?”

The car behind them blew the horn. 

Lister spat the candy into her hand. As she regulated her breathing, she looked up, and gave a start again when her gaze met Ann’s. She was not just looking in Lister’s direction. It was not a product of her imagination. Ann was looking straight at her. Acknowledging her presence. Her face betrayed no emotions, devoid of sorrow, anger, and joy. But Lister still felt a thousand needles on her face. She could not look away. She was certain Ann had her under some sort of a spell. The whole world was under a spell, trapping the two of them alone in a slightly different universe than the rest. 

Then, Ann turned her head away, and the rest of the world came back to life. The spell had been broken. Ann smiled at something—someone, Lister soon realised—hidden behind the pillar of a corner shop. While Lister tried to get a better view of the other person, Ann raised her hand to take their arm and walked off. Out of sight. 

“Oh, shut up!” Mariana shouted at someone behind them.

Only then did Lister finally register the blaring horn behind their car. With sweaty palms, she stepped on the gas pedal and pulled in around the corner before the light turned red again. 

“Freddie, you look pale. Can you breathe okay?”

Lister dropped the sugar candy in her hand to the floor of the car. Her palm was sticky. She had not realised there was another person with Ann. “She was there,” she managed to say.

“Who? Where?”

_ Ann_. “Her. At the zebra crossing.”

“Blimey, I missed it.” Mariana twisted her upper body to look behind the car. “Well, what do you want to do now?”

Ann’s smile had not been directed at Argus, but at the other person. Who was it? A friend? Ann didn’t have many close friends in the city, certainly not any who she would link arms with. Then, someone new? Her replacement.

“I want to marry you,” Lister said. 

Mariana seemed tongue-tied for a second. “That’s not exactly what I meant…”

“When Charles dies. You just said you wanted to travel. Let’s get married, and I will take you anywhere on Earth on our honeymoon.”

“Let’s take a breather here, alright? I think you are distraught.”

“Yes, I am distraught,” Lister said. “We’ve been over this so many times. And every time, your answer is neither yes nor no, but you leave me with just enough hope to keep me tied to you. I’m sick of it.”

“Anne—”

“I want a clear, definite answer. Here, right now. No fooling ourselves anymore.”

Shaking her head, Mariana looked ahead. “I’m not having this conversation. You’re doing this for spite.”

“Maybe I am. So what? Why can’t we get married to spite everyone? The world?”

“Because that’s wrong.”

Lister scoffed. “That never stopped you from committing adultery.”

“This is not just about morals. You are too stupid if you believe you can be happy rushing a decision like this.”

“Rushing? What part of our twenty years together is precisely rushing?” Lister reached for Mariana’s hand over the centre console. “Come on. What do you have to lose? I’m no longer a public figure. It will be much easier for you. We could live in another country where nobody knows who we are.”

Mariana slowly turned her head and looked her straight in the eye, a myriad of thoughts flashing across her face. As though in pain, she grimaced as she squeezed Lister’s hand. “When Charles dies…”

“Yes.”

“And when my mother dies, then, maybe—”

“What— Oh, there’s your mother now?” Lister shook her hold loose, gripping the wheel instead to keep calm. “Well done, Mariana. I should’ve seen that coming, but I didn’t. Well bloody done.”

Mariana did not say anything.

That uncharacteristic silence annoyed Lister even more. “So, that’s a no, then. That’s your definite answer. Hmm? After all these years, you choose your family and social standing over me.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Mariana said quietly.

“It bloody looks like it is to me. But what do I know, right? I’m a simple-minded chav that’s incapable of comprehending the intricacy and complexity of your rich life." Lister took a deep breath when she felt an onset of tears. "You're always running, Mariana, from one thing or another. Always." She looked at her. "Don't you get tired living your life for other people?”

Mariana's lip curled as a breathy chuckle of derision fell. And the conversation was over.

...

With her empty suitcase, Lister returned to her flat alone and put it back into the closet. Her mood had changed for the worse. When she reviewed the last hour, there was no task that could be ticked off the to-do list. She had basically taken the suitcase out for a walk and lost Mariana on the way home. She deemed her irritation justifiable.

Never mind her clothes. Lister could fill her closet with new tailored clothes and shoes with the flick of fingers. And in regard to Argus, Lister decided that Ann had adopted him. The fact that Ann hadn’t come to give him back, even when she saw Lister, was a testament to their growing bond. Then, it would be cruel to tear their love apart. Lister would still fulfill her obligation as the first parent and make a monthly child support payment, but that was it.

She lay down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

The thought of Ann’s new lover gave a twist in her stomach. The look of Ann’s smile and the way she had taken their arm flickered behind her eyelids, on repeat against her will. And the way she had looked at Lister. It was the kind of look you give to someone who is not a complete stranger, but a simple acquaintance who invokes no sentiment. The kind of look you give to someone who is out of sight, out of mind.

Ann had already moved on. Otherwise, there was no explanation for her display of such blatant indifference. 

Feeling her heart clench, Lister curled up in a ball and glared at the wall before opening the gallery app on her phone. Most of the photos on her camera roll were the ones Ann had taken and shared with her. Photos of them together, occasionally with Argus. And here and there, photos of Lister alone, doing something as mundane as reading or walking in the park. 

“Why would you even want to snap an insipid picture like this?” Lister had once asked. 

Ann sat on her lap, wrapped her arms around her neck, and kissed her. “Because you make everything art.”

Two weeks. Ann had moved on from all this in the span of two weeks.

Lister’s thumb hovered over the Select button in the upper corner of the phone screen. Then, she watched in a rather passive stance as her thumb tapped it, selected all the photos, tapped the bin icon in the lower-right corner, and tapped Delete. In the Recently Deleted folder, she did the same with the same steadfast detachment, and her phone no longer had photographic traces of Ann. 

Good, she told herself. She was finally, credibly free from the madness of grief. And Ann had seemed happy with her new lover, who clearly had a better grasp of the situation than Lister could’ve ever done. A win-win. There was no reason to mope around.

Lister rolled over in bed, glared at the wall, and opened Instagram this time, going to Ann’s account page. It had been updated a couple of days ago with a photo of her new art piece. A wire statue of a horse. The commissioned work. It was a further proof that Ann was doing fine without her. 

Lister scrolled down without aim, knowing this should stop, but incapable of doing so. She had looked through these photos once, before the conception of the scheme if her memory served her well. But most of them struck her as new. It felt like discovering new parts of Ann, and her heart twinged again. Her thumb stopped, then, when she came face to face with the ancient photo of them and Elizabeth at Pride in London. The one that had started it all. Lister studied Ann’s face, joyful and shy, and—Ann had said that meeting Lister had gotten her so overwhelmed—slightly tearful. Even to this day, this moment of their first interaction had not come back to her. It only existed as a tale, and not her own experience.

Tears started to well up in her eyes. She tossed aside her phone and sat up.

What Ann had said before was right. She had inserted herself into Lister’s life like a thorn, wrapped in the cloak of beauty and tenderness, cutting into the innermost layer of Lister’s consciousness. The poison on the thorn was still spreading through her body, she could tell. Her body felt different, acted different. She had no idea what to do.

But fortunately, as Mariana had said, their relationship had only lasted for a few months. Only one and a half seasons. It would not be hard to forget about everything. It should be easy to get back to the life before it. The Anne Lister before Ann Walker. 

She was a monster to begin with. All the sweet things Ann had said about her was a legion of lies. What Ann saw was her idealised version of Anne Lister. A star far out of reach. Lister should never have allowed herself to believed it, should’ve known better, because Ann was the only one that saw it. It was a delusion. The rest of the world that either feared or hated her was the sane ones. 

Her biggest, most stupid mistake was believing she deserved happiness. It was overrated. It was unrealistic. What she needed was peace, and this pursuit of happiness would simply get in the way of it. She needed something, to help restore the old Anne Lister. 

She bounced out of bed and got into the shower. Out into the street, some gossipy photographers turned their cameras to her, but Lister paid no heed as she strode off in the gathering dusk. 

… 

Bars in Shibden-owned hotels were her place of choice on her solo night out. And nothing—not even the fact that she had been sacked two weeks ago—could keep her from going to one in Soho tonight.

From the polished bar counter, Lister observed the flocks of people in the lounge. Business people, wealthy tourists from overseas, idiots possibly on their honeymoons. Not many that were on their own like Lister. Although the bartender was a beautiful woman, Lister’s presence seemed to make her nervous. It would be futile to try to chat her up.

She whipped her head around again, and immediately a woman, who sat with five or six other people on semi-circular couches, caught her eye. The poor illumination of the place made it difficult to discern any notable features of her face. Still, Lister knew her gaze was trained on her, unabashed, full of curiosity and intention. Lister offered a smile before turning back to the counter to take a sip of her liquor. The game was on.

As expected, the woman left her group shortly after and came swaying towards Lister. A brunette, rather young looking, in a tight sparkly dress. Her up-to-no-good grin grew even wider as the distance between them grew smaller. They maintained eye contact until a man sat next to Lister and blocked her view.

"Hi, there, gorgeous." He smiled at Lister.

She instinctively looked around her, but saw nobody else. She turned back. “Hello?”

“Travelling alone? Nice suit. Let me buy you a drink.” He was a man of unfortunate life choices, wearing more hair gel on his ginger Salvador-Dali mustache than the hair on his head. 

This bizarre turn of events boggled her mind. All she could think to say in the moment was, “I already have a drink.”

Dali laughed. “The next one is on me, then.” He slapped a ten-pound bill onto the counter. “What’s your name? What has brought you to London?”

In the forty-two years of her life, Lister had never been hit on by a man, and being utterly inadequate in this department, she struggled to even identify this as her first encounter. Was he a gay man, thinking she was a man? Or, perhaps he was not flirting with her, Lister thought. He could be a serial killer on the prowl. Her experience with serial killers was limited, too. Zero, in fact, at least, to her knowledge. Also, a glass of her whiskey cost more than ten pounds.

“I’m… gay,” she said.

“Oh, what an interesting name!” He threw back his head and laughed. 

Lister exchanged a look with the bartender, and in that split second of silence, they came to the conclusion that this man was a buffoon.

“No, I’m a lesbian,” Lister said slowly, making it easy to understand. “I’m gay, not as in happy, but as in homosexual.”

A shadow of confusion flitted across his face. He took a closer look at her clothes, at her face, at her hair. And her words seemed to sink in at last. His mustache drooped down. Like a defeated fighter, he slid off his stool to walk away.

Lister grabbed the ten-pound bill. “Don’t forget your money.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, ma’am,” he quickly mumbled and scuttled away.

As Lister watched him retreat, a giggle came from the stool next to where the man had sat. 

The girl in the sparkly dress bounced from her seat to the recently emptied one. “Is it my turn yet?” 

Lister couldn’t help her chuckle. “And what kind of misconceptions do you have about me? You don’t think I’m a man, do you?”

“I didn’t rule out that possibility. But now that you say it like that, I know you’re not.” The girl had a thick accent, which Lister couldn’t put a finger on.

“Hmm. I’m so used to dealing with angry, pathetic men who feel threatened by me, my masculinity and power. But not him. Whatever that was. It was all foreign to me.”

“You looked so confused.”

“It’s a mystery that some people look at me and still assume I’m interested in men. What does a lass like me got to do to look more lesbian-y than this?”

“Wear a name tag.” The girl’s knuckles brushed against Lister’s breast pocket. “Saying, ‘Hello, I’m _ blank_, and I’m a lesbian.’ What would you put in the blank?”

Smooth.

"Anne— Freddie." 

The girl smirked. "Anne Freddie?" 

"Just, Freddie. Yours?"

"Sophie. Are you alone?” 

“I am. I see that you are not.” Lister gestured towards the group of people Sophie had been with.

Sophie looked back at them. “Yeah, we are bridesmaids. Are you local?”

Lister gave a nod. It comforted her to know this city still had people who didn’t know who she was.

“Have you been to Denmark?” Sophie said with her head tilted to the side. “You look familiar. I’m wondering if we’ve met before.”

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours, then.”

That did not get Sophie to blush as Lister had hoped. It only made her smirk wider and cockier. “Are you famous?”

Lister mustered enough energy and smirked back. “Notorious.”

“I like that. A bad bitch.”

This was not the manner of speaking Lister liked in a woman, so she downed her liquor. 

Sophie’s inquisitive gaze never left her face. “Why are you alone on a Saturday night?” 

“I’m looking for a bride.”

“Don’t want to say?” 

With her glass in her hand, Lister gestured at Sophie’s pink cocktail. “Could I buy you another drink or something to snack on?”

Sophie seemed to weigh her options. “If I ask you to take me to your place, will you?”

“That’s…” Lister had to laugh, “very forward of you.”

“Don’t you like your women eager?” Sophie ran her fingers along Lister’s jacket lapel. 

Sassiness was not usually a trait Lister felt attracted to. Her experience with Mariana had taught her too many lessons to count. But every word Sophie spoke dripped with an overwhelming amount of it that it became perversely attractive, spurred by the absolute lack of boundaries.

They left the bar and, after a short taxi ride, stumbled into Lister’s flat. The moment the lift door closed behind them, Lister pushed her against the wall and assaulted her neck. Sophie’s giggle echoed in her drunken haze. Limbs entangled, they both swayed back and forth in a semi-dance across the hallways, entering the bedroom, falling onto the bed. It was a choreography Lister was all familiar with. 

As the ringing giggle still fell from between her lips, Sophie got on top of her. Lister’s hands slithered up her body and fiddled with the hem of her tight dress. Sophie caught her wrists, then, and pressed them onto the mattress.

So eager. The game of dominance was Lister’s favourite.

Lifting the weight of their bodies, Lister rolled them over and hovered over the girl. But Sophie, for a girl her age, turned out to be quite a seasoned player, too. With her boundless pluck, she succeeded in unbuttoning Lister’s shirt and somehow managed to get on top again. Lister felt her carnal desire take a backseat to her competitive spirit. She sat up, got Sophie out of her dress, and caressed her under the ribcage as they kissed.

Sophie giggled against her lips. She glanced down at Lister’s hands. “Are you trying to tickle me?”

For a moment, the question floated in the air, untouched.

“Is it working?” Lister said.

Sophie shook her head. “Do you have a tickling fetish?"

Apparently there was a whole new world Lister was unaware of. "Mildly."

“Sorry, I’m not ticklish.”

Their lips found each other again as Sophie pushed her onto the bed. But the sight of the girl planting kisses across her chest and stomach could no longer offer the excitement Lister had felt a moment ago. As though the effect of a magical spell had disappeared. Lister didn’t want to let it go. Not yet.

“Do you want to get married?” Lister said. 

Sophie’s head snapped up. She let out a laugh. “You are funny.” 

“Well, do you? I'm filthy rich. I could buy you anything you want. I could get you a ten-carat diamond ring right now.”

“You don't mean that."

"How would you know what I mean? Don't you believe in soulmates? Love at first sight?"

Sophie put her face right above Lister’s. Their lips brushed against each other. "No. It's stupid, the idea that our fate is predetermined. Plus, I don’t think you do, either.”

“Speaking for me now, are you?”

Sophie mumbled something in another language. “You’re heartbroken. That makes me sad.”

Lister forced out a laugh, but couldn’t meet her eyes. This was not the kind of night she had wanted. Those youngsters, they always wanted to know everything. “I’m not heartbroken. I don’t have the right to be.”

“The right to feel, emotions?”

Lister didn’t answer.

“Alright, no more talking,” Sophie said, and she pressed her lips against Lister’s neck. “Let me make you feel good. You don’t have to think of me.”

Behind her closed eyelids, Lister’s mind’s eye saw the girl leave a trail of kisses down her body. From her chest to navel. And as her boxer pants were discarded, she settled between her legs. The alcohol in her system made her head swim, too dizzy to protest. But part of her wanted it anyway.

The moment those lips met the sensitive skin of her core, Lister saw a head of blonde curls in the darkness. Her eyes snapped open and darted downward, looking at Sophie’s brunette hair. She focused on the dark colour of the hair. 

She threaded her fingers into the hair. Anchoring herself. 

…

The next morning, Lister woke up to a dreadful headache. The back of her neck felt as tense and heavy as a rock. Neither getting up nor staying still alleviated the feeling of discomfort. The thinnest rays of sunlight leaking from the curtain gap gave her dull pain deep in her eye sockets. Still, the quality of sleep would get a solid ten out of ten. 

The other side of the bed was already empty. Even better. To wake up alone. This narrow window of tranquility that only solitude could offer—what many people might dread—was what nourished her. This was what she needed. Repeated many times, and the return of the old Anne Lister might not be so far off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's Jealous Lister for you peeps. Who is that mysterious woman that was with Ann?? 😱


	22. The codfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big scene with the Ann(e)s! Lister finally {{FINALLY}} gets her shit together.

Another week passed. No message came from Mariana. Although a certain period of silence always followed from a fight like it was part of the deal, something about it felt different this time. But Lister couldn’t be bothered to examine it more closely. 

Ann had not contacted, either. The absence of Argus blew loudly through her house. Every night, Lister went out and took a woman or two home. They all called her Freddie, or if they wanted to refer to her as Miss Lister, she allowed it. 

“Why do you call yourself Freddie?” one of them said.

Lister lied that it was her middle name. 

It didn’t even have to be Freddie. Anything but her first name. Every time someone uttered her real name, it brought back memories of Ann. That wouldn’t do.

Until then, it had never occurred to her what a difficulty it might be to share the same name with a partner. Only wondered with a sense of amusement how weird it must feel during sex. But never had she considered the difficulty one would face after a breakup. The name was no longer a name, but a set of memories. 

If only Ann had not been Ann, or Anne not Anne. It felt as if life offered her no chance to escape, as if this was the universe’s way of telling her that she deserved no forgiveness or peace. The idea of predestination was bollocks, but sometimes life could be so comically cruel that she wondered what atrocities she’d committed in her past life, and what torment awaited her in the next one. 

Her women never stayed long in the morning. Lister liked it that way. The early hours were sacred. But not all of them respected the choice as much as she expected them to, suggesting brunch together, requesting a house tour, or demanding more attention in bed. And sometimes it dragged on for hours. 

It was almost noon on Saturday when her Friday finally left the house. Lister gave her a peck on the cheek and, with her patience on the cusp of running out, gently nudged her into the lift.

The intercom connected to the concierge desk on the ground floor chimed shortly after.

“Yes?”

“There’s a gift addressed to you, Miss Lister,” the concierge said. 

“Alright. Can you bring it up here, please?”

“Will do.”

Lister looked down at her semi-nude state and walked back to her bedroom for some clothes. She halted, however, when another memory struck her in the back of her head. In the middle of the hallway, Lister was transported back to the moment Ann had set foot in this place for the first time. It paralysed her, one second too long for her liking. She straightened her back. But it felt as though even the walls were mocking her, the snickers muffled by the thin wallpapers. Perhaps it was time to sell this place. 

Fully clothed, she received the delivery, a flower basket, from the concierge at the lift. In the flowers were a blank envelope and a tiny black velvet box. A jewelry box, Lister immediately knew and felt a heavy blow in the gut. The walls were laughing now.

Inside the box nestled a black onyx ring, garnished with small diamonds around the stone. Their gleam blinded her. Her stomach churned as the voice of Ann whispered in her ears,  _ Marry me _ . She closed it and put it aside, feeling the burns on her fingers, and reached for the envelope.

Part of her already knew what it had inside. But instead of ripping off the bandaid, she slowly pulled the contents out. Centimetre by centimetre, even after the words  _ The Rawsons _ and  _ Certificate of Stock _ were visible and clear. It also had a stock power, which was a legal document necessary for transfering the ownership of stock. Lister placed the two sheets of paper in front of her on the table and stared down at them. They had no value to her. Not anymore. She’d rather have—

Her attention shifted back to the jewelry box. She opened it again. And at the sight of the ring, a question arose. Why had Ann sent this to her if she had a new lover now? An act of passive aggression? No, Ann was not as twisted as that. But even if this was indeed a proposal, Ann couldn’t possibly think Lister would accept it. 

The more she thought, the more it exacerbated her confusion. It wouldn’t do. 

Her mind began to list the options. But she grabbed the box and the papers, shoved them into her pockets, and before her trepidation could speak, rushed out of the house.

…

Race-walking from her place to Kensington, she probably set a new personal record. She didn’t feel tired, only slightly out of breath. The sky was dark. The beginning of rain was in the air. The papers and the jewelry box felt heavy in her pockets. The lights in Ann’s studio were on. 

She gave herself no opportunity to take a breath, ringing the doorbell the moment it came within reach. The dog began barking upstairs. But while the bell had yet to stop sounding inside the house, she realised with mild panic that she hadn't prepared a speech. Should she speak at all? What was Ann expecting her to say? Lister looked down. She was wearing her very casual clothes, her collar bones partially exposed, her hair wild, and shoes unpolished. She looked like an ordinary millionaire.

The barking of Argus grew closer, and the door opened. Lister frowned.

Marian’s smile fell. “Oh, that was quick.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m here to take care of my friend.” The tone of accusation was clear in her voice. 

“Let me in.” Lister pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer, while Argus circled around her. “Where’s she?”

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to her."

"Why?"

With a surge of annoyance, Lister flapped the naked papers in front of Marian’s face. "Because she sent me the stock certificate, and I need to return it."

Only then, Marian closed the door. "She's in the studio—" 

Lister took a step forward, only to be stopped by her sister’s hand on her chest.

"But I should ask her if she wants to see you first.”

Lister had no choice but to succumbed to it, trailing along behind Marian, who was in an apron as Lister noticed. From the kitchen, the lingering smell of onion wafted through the air. It gave a prickling behind the eyes.

They went up the stairs. While Marian entered the studio, Lister waited behind the wall, listening for their murmurs over Argus’s excited panting. She gave him pats on the head and scratches behind his ears. Looking down, she noticed the rather wrinkled-up state of the certificate and smoothed it against the wall in a pathetic attempt. 

The clock on the landing chimed. It read four o’clock. Lister checked her wrist watch. Forty minutes past six.

Marian came back out and, with the swift tilt of her head, prompted Lister to go in. In that moment, Lister understood the sense of terror people must have felt when walking into  _ her  _ office—her old office. Submitting herself, completely at the mercy of the owner of the place. And Ann, standing by her sculpture of barbed wire, looked straight at Lister. Her gaze pierced Lister through the heart, just like the less-than-fleeting encounter at the intersection. 

Each step felt heavier and more difficult than the last. What was left of her ability to talk or think had evaporated by the time she stood before Ann. Her mouth felt so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She cleared her throat. 

_ Ann _ . “Miss Walker—” 

Ann's lip trembled. Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and she looked down.

Lister ached to wrap her arms around her, but couldn’t. She had no right to comfort her.

Then, her focus was robbed by Marian, who sat herself on the couch to watch the scene. They locked eyes, exchanged looks, but Marian seemed bent on ignoring Lister’s silent command to leave the room. She was Ann’s watchdog. Argus, the literal dog, lay at the feet of the couch with a peaceful expression as though this was a heartwarming family gathering.

Throwing in the towel, Lister turned back to Ann. “Miss Walker, I understand I have no right to return to this place after what I’ve done to you. But I've come to give these back," she said, holding out the wrinkled certificate and stock power, "because it is unacceptable... for me to accept them."

In the corner of her eye, Lister caught Marian rolling her eyes.

Ann neither moved nor said anything.

"I don't want them," Lister said. "I shouldn't have wanted them in the first place. They do not belong to me."

Ann fiddled with the barbed wire hanging from her gloved hands. Lister took a step to the side, trying to be in her line of sight, and kept holding out the papers. Still, the silence went on and on. And on. Ann didn’t even look at her anymore. This stubborn refusal of Ann and her own inability to make a proper speech exacerbated Lister’s frustrations by the second. 

After an agonizing time, Ann accepted them at last. 

“Thank you,” Lister said before taking the jewelry box out of her pocket. “And this, too.” She held it out in the same manner. “I don’t know why you even sent me this, but I don’t want to marry you. I can’t. I shouldn’t be allowed to keep taking advantage of you.”

The veins at the base of Ann's throat pulsated as she stared at it. Her lips parted and closed. Slowly, her head turned to look at Marian. "Can you leave us alone?" 

It seemed to take Marian by surprise. But as her mouth opened, something faintly beeped somewhere in the house. 

"Oh shit, the codfish." Marian stood up from the couch with blatant reluctance. “Argus, come.” Casting a warning look at Lister, she left for the kitchen downstairs with the dog.

As their footsteps faded away, Lister endured another pause, waiting for Ann to speak. It was a long pause. 

“I saw you with her the other day,” Ann said at last. “Mrs. Lawton.”

Lister didn’t know how to react. “Mariana is… very special to me. We’ve been in each other’s life for over twenty years.”

“I know. I knew about her from the beginning. But I hopelessly wished I could be just as important to you as she is.”

“You were,” Lister said. “When we were together, I never cheated on you with her, or with anybody. I realise everything I say may sound false. I don't expect you to forgive me ever, and I'm not going to try and bother you with my attempts to change your opinion of me. But—” She looked down at the jewelry box in her hands. "I did care for you. Please, don't ever doubt that."

In Lister’s peripheral vision, Ann clenched her fist around the wire. "And now? Do you have someone?"

"No." Then, Lister quickly willed herself to add, "I have slept with some people. Trying to drive you out of my mind. But nobody could. Nobody compared."

The room fell back into silence. Doubt crept into her mind, as Lister waited for her response, that this honesty might have been a mistake. 

"Sometimes," Ann said, "I wonder if I overreacted. Maybe I should’ve forgiven you on the spot. Marian says I didn't and shouldn’t have, that I should feel angry. I thought, if I saw your face, the anger I was supposed to feel might come to me. But it didn't a week ago, and it still doesn't now." She shook her head, her face scrunched up. "I just miss you. I can’t help it.” 

Despite the opportunity and her instinct, Lister took a step back. Otherwise, she feared she might pull Ann into her arms too forcefully and shatter her into pieces. 

A lone tear rolled down Ann’s cheek. "I often catch myself thinking, if I hadn't been so absorbed in my grief, if it hadn't been for Elizabeth—”

“Don't. Please, don't. Please.” 

“And I hated myself for it," Ann whispered.

“Don’t, Ann. I’m the despicable one that should—” But the rest of the sentence died in her throat. “I thought you had moved on,” her voice sounded so weak. “You were with someone else.”

“When?”

“When you saw me with Mariana. You were walking Argus.”

Ann grimaced, deep in thought. “That was Marian. It was the first time I had gone out since…” She let the sentence finish itself.

“Oh…” was all Lister could say. She felt silly now, but not in an optimistic way.

“If I had moved on, what would you have done?”

Lister shook her head. “Nothing. I betrayed you. If you don’t want me in your life, I must accept that. As you probably know, I have lost my job. I’m a walking disgrace. Asking you to take me back after losing everything would be too egocentric of me.”

A trembling sigh escaped Ann’s lips. “So, you don’t want to marry me?”

Lister hesitated, but affected a smile to the best of her ability. “I’d say yes if you insist. It’d be a great way to punish me. The Rawsons would forever taunt me for it, so…”

Ann’s gaze rose, searching for something in Lister’s eyes. But whatever it was, it seemed like Lister did not have that. A moment later Ann looked down and, with no more words, extended her gloved hand with the palm upward. The jewelry box. 

The gesture had such definiteness that Lister knew this was the end. The true end. As she stared at the hand between them, it dawned on her that she could never kiss it. She could never feel Ann’s warmth against her skin again. It was too late to realise that. Like it always was. She put the box in Ann’s hand. 

Ann hung her head lower, clutching the box to her stomach.

Lister wanted her to look up one last time, to show her blue eyes. But her silent wish did not come true. “Well, that’s that, then.” Her body felt like lead all of a sudden. "And don't worry. You will never have the displeasure of seeing me again in the future."

She turned around and left the room, scurrying down the stairs. That had gone well, hadn't it? Her plan had been to return the papers and ring, and she had achieved it. What more had she expected?

In the foyer, Marian was closing the door with her hip, holding a package in her arms. Lister headed straight to the exit like a bull. But Marian blocked her path, stepping to her right when Lister stepped to her left, stepping to her left when Lister stepped to her right, and remaining in the same spot when Lister did the same. This was on purpose.

“What are you doing?” Lister said through gritted teeth.

“What do you think?” Marian said in a shrill voice. “You aren’t leaving just like this?” 

After a moment of contemplation, Lister said, "Is she taking her medication?" 

"Yes.” Marian did not conceal her scorn. “And?”

Lister looked around in search of an answer and found Argus at their feet. “I’m taking him home. I’ll write a check for his last month’s food bill.”

“Ugh, that’s not what I meant, you wanker! What did you say to her?”

Lister didn’t bother to hide her increasing annoyance. “What? Are you going to enter that into the minutes?”

“God, you’re such a bitch. I'm asking if you apologised to her.” Marian put down the package at last on the foyer table. 

“Well—”

“Oh, and this?” Marian jerked her head at the package. “Another one of the bloody useless gifts you ordered online. I have to return this, too. They never stop coming. So? Did you apologise?”

“I did,” Lister said in a defensive tone.

"Really? I mean, actually apologise. Not just half-arsed 'I'm so stupid. I made a mistake' bollocks, but actually look her in the eye and say 'I'm sorry.' Did you do that?"

“I think so, I mean—”

"Oh, really? Because, I don't think you have ever realised, but you have this trait or habit where you don't say sorry when you really ought to.”

Lister shook her head. The onion particles in the air had dissipated, but the smell of it still lingered. She felt the beginning of tears gather in her eyes. "What's the point? I don’t have anything left. She doesn’t want a loser like me.”

Marian scoffed. "Oh, yeah, it's still about your ego, isn't it? It’s always about that. Do you remember when you accidentally shot Ricky in the face with his toy BB gun?”

“What—”

“The bullet split his lip. Yes, he was a big nuisance, but he was younger than you. And when the adults asked what had happened, you used all the colourful words to make them believe how it was an accident and how sorry you were. But you  _ never  _ actually apologised.” Her voice was growing high in pitch, her face redder as tears welled up in her eyes. “It might be a good trait for a business person, to never sincerely admit your fault. But as a human being... That's such a shitty trait to have."

The stifling silence that followed felt too heavy to bare. Lister could neither speak nor look her in the eye. She almost collapsed on the windowsill nearby, leaning against the wall for support. There was only the sound of Marian's hard breathing and occasional sniffling.

"I'm still mad at you," Marian said, "in case you couldn't tell."

"I know."  _ I'm sorry _ . 

“As terrible as you can be, I used to look up to you.” 

Of all the things Marian had said today—or perhaps, ever—this one hurt the most, because it was true. Lister was no longer a saviour. 

She couldn't stop her tears now. "I've lost your trust, too."

With a hand on Lister's shoulder, Marian sat next to her. "We'll be okay. I love you. You are my sister." She gave a tired smile. "Just, not today."

…

There was no fooling herself anymore. She wasn't, or had never been, as strong as she'd thought she was. The pain of remorse overwhelmed her, and no self-deception could offer solace. Even if it could, she didn’t want it. She shouldn’t.

She pulled Ann’s paintings and non-bin bin out of the walk-in closet, hanging the paintings on the bedroom walls where she could see from the bed, and the bin in the centre of the room. She crouched in front of it, lifted the lid, and looked inside. It smelled of her office. The figurines and paint brushes and stress balls had clustered in the bottom. Only the several figurines glued to the spiral stairs had managed to avoid the stampede. She picked up one of the princesses between her fingers and gazed into its dots of eyes. Abstract art still made her scratch her head, but now, it also made her feel nostalgic. It symbolised the tender days she had spent with Ann. 

Why on earth had she thought it was a good idea to think Ann was a simple girl? A girl with no power? 

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from one of her one-night stands.

**Aisling:** Hey, can I see you tonight? ;)

Lister put the phone down, intending to ignore it. But she reconsidered it and decided to text back,

_ I’m not looking for anybody’s company at the moment. Appreciate the offer. _

This woman, though Lister knew nothing about her, deserved some kind of a reply. 

**Aisling: ** Tomorrow?

_ No. My answer stands indefinitely. _

Exiting the conversation, Lister scrolled down to read the texts from Ann. She wanted to text her. Until this afternoon, she had deceived herself that it didn’t matter if Ann never talked to her. Then, Ann had talked to her, actually looked her in the eye. Lister felt her yearning surge, overpowering and blistering, after weeks of repression. It threatened to burst out of her skin. But she resisted it when the memory of Ann extending her hand for the jewelry box flashed across her mind. 

She grabbed her journal instead.

On the bed, she sat cross-legged with it in her lap, turning over the pages to read her past entries. It was not something she usually did. Once written, it was in the past. The only time that called for a review was when there was a conflict of evidence to be resolved. 

Those were mostly just records of events. Dinner with such-and-such in what place and at what time, talking about this and that. For the sake of efficiency, most of the thoughts and events were cut to snippets instead of in full sentences. That, Lister reckoned, made these entries look apathetic and cold, even the entries that saw Ann in a positive light. She couldn’t begin to imagine how that had made Ann feel. 

The last entry was from the night before the day when everything had fallen to pieces. She ruffled through the blank pages. The faint breeze that these pages created caressed her cheeks. She soon reached the back of the back cover. The last page had a few words she had jotted down for Elizabeth’s eulogy.

She remembered, then, the first entry that had ever graced the page of her journal. It was somewhere after the funeral of her mother. She was fifteen. 

The image of her own handwriting still remained vivid in her memory.  _ I miss you. I love you _ , she had written the words she had never said out loud to her mother. She’d written down the pain eating away at her, poured all of it onto a piece of paper, wishing it away. It never did. 

For the first time since her death, Lister allowed herself to cry over her loss. It had taken twenty-seven years. But she finally mourned her mother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Do you think a person deserves a second chance after betraying someone like Lister did? I know my answer, but I'm interested to hear your opinions. Discuss 🤔


	23. Lesbian Grief Scarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lister is a completely useless lesbian

The next day, Lister woke up at five in the morning, swam in the pool for two hours, and brought herself to check for news. 

So many things had come about since she’d left Shibden Group. Shibden Group’s new leader, Washington, had head-hunted his female friend, who Lister knew to have a stellar track record, for the CFO position and severed connections with Northwich. Northwich’s board of directors had hired another big baby of a man as a replacement for Ainsworth. Ainsworth had paid the bail, had been set free, and was now awaiting his trial. The probe by the Attorney General’s office had yet to be concluded. 

It felt strange, looking at those events from outside. Rougher than she had expected, in fact. It almost felt like a sense of estrangement, that the world turned out to be okay without her as part of it. 

By noon, she already felt tired. The past three weeks of negligence laid merciless on her, both her mind and body begging for a break. They would not get it, though. She needed to push herself. She needed to get control of her life where she could.

Her phone had received some more messages from women asking for her love for the night. Lister politely declined all of them. And with the message app still open, her thumb tapped the conversation thread with Ann out of sheer habit. The rational part of her mind knew it was pointless, because there was no new messages. Everything was the same as yesterday. But her thumb didn’t know to stop, disconnected from her judgement. She scrolled up and up, going over their past exchanges. 

_ Have you eaten lunch yet?  _ Ann often used to say.

Her stomach growled as if it just remembered the existence of hunger. She should probably eat. 

Mrs. Cordingley had been fulfilling her duty and never failed to leave the fridge empty. They hadn’t seen each other in a while. Lister reckoned a gesture of gratitude was in order, like a trip to somewhere nice for her whole family. She missed Ann’s cooking.

She missed Ann.

…

Her heart thumped in her throat as she ringed on Ann’s doorbell. It felt surreal, in a way, to even be standing here. She had made a promise two days ago to never cross the threshold again. It had not escaped her memory. But she was giving herself one last chance. She didn’t know if she even deserved it, but this was her only option. To struggle, however ugly that might be.

The door opened, and Marian’s face poked from behind it as well as Argus’ nose. “Hmm,” was all Marian said.

“How is she?”

Marian narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips in a frown. The message was crystal clear.

“How are you?” Lister said.

“Not so bad.”

The ball was yet again in Lister’s court. But standing on the doorstep like in the melodramatic scene of a stupid romantic movie, she couldn’t find appropriate words. She stuck her hands in her pockets. Her fingers brushed against what was inside. “This,” she said, holding out a signed check.

“What’s that?”

“For Argus’ food bill. I know I said a lot of… stuff that I didn’t mean yesterday. But this thing, I still think this is the right thing to do. I want to change. Just, this has been my whole life. Nobody has ever guided me— I know this is a pathetic excuse. But… I really have no idea where to start.”

“You want to change so that Annie would take you back?”

Lister thought about it. “No, I don’t want to have a secondary motive like that again. I want to be a better person, not just for Ann, but for you, too... And for Mother.”

The last word seemed to catch Marian unawares. Her round eyes darted to the check, which stayed hanging in the air for some moments. She finally accepted it, taking it between her fingers. She opened the door more widely and, stepping aside, granted Lister silent permission to enter.

Inside the foyer, Lister strained her ears to figure out where Ann might be. But as Marian closed the door, the house fell into its distinctive quiescence despite the dog’s heavy breathing. 

“She isn’t feeling well today,” Marian said, “or yesterday for that matter.”

Lister didn’t need to ask why.

Marian, ever indifferent to her response, walked past her and into the living room. “But much better than three weeks ago. That’s an undeniable fact. She’s got a therapy session this weekend. We’ll see.”

With Argus trailing behind her like the tail of a kite, Lister followed after her and saw the telle was on. Although it was paused, the scene was somewhat recognisable. “Harry Potter, right?”

A smile of surprise crept across Marian’s lips. “Yeah. Since when are you into pop culture?”

“Ann once made me watch all the seven movies with her.”

“Eight. Good for her.”

As Lister sat herself down on the couch, Argus settled next to her, resting his chin on her thigh. She looked up at Marian. “Thank you for taking care of him and Ann.”

“Well, I love them both. It’s not for you.” Marian sat on the other end of the couch, at the butt of Argus, and grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the side table. 

For a little while, they watched as the entire school of Hogwarts cheered for Harry in a game of snitch— Or a game of quidditch, Ann had taught her once, but there were too many terms to remember. She caressed Argus’s head. The deep sigh of contentment he released felt warm on her other hand.

“We do talk about you sometimes, though,” Marian said with no preamble. “A lot actually, because I think it’s important to talk about your pain. And about Elizabeth, of course.”

“Hmm.”

“She certainly idolises you. I knew it before, but it’s upsetting to see how much of her self-worth she associates with you. Even to this day.”

Lister could only stare at Argus’ ear as he flapped it. “I’ve told her before. That she is whole as she is.”

“Oh, she understands it. But it’s easier said than done, I reckon.” Marian looked at her with a piercing gaze. “I love her, you know. I want her to be happy. So, if I judge that you can be a hindrance to her happiness in any way, I won’t hesitate to come between you two.”

“I know.”

“And if she makes a decision to never have you in her life ever again, you’ll have to accept that. No bargaining.”

Lister felt herself waver in purpose, but said, “I know.”

“Good.”

Silence enveloped them again. Though this pause felt less fraught with tension, there were still conflicted feelings swirling inside Lister.

To be cut out of Ann’s life. She knew that could very much happen. Now that it was said out loud, however, the true gravity of the possible future weighed on her heart. Could she really accept that? It looked so much more impossible than she had convinced herself it was. She didn’t want to be the person who didn’t understand what the word no meant. But at the same time, she now knew how it felt to be that loser.

“I don’t know if I should’ve accepted the ring,” Lister said half to herself.

“Oh, the ring.” Marian shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “I advised her not to send it. The stock certificate alone was enough.”

In spite of Marian’s not-unkind tone, Lister still found herself unable to speak.

“Why do you think you should’ve accepted it?” Marian said. “It’s not a magical item that makes the problems evaporate.”

Lister stared at the TV screen. “I know. I just thought that was what she wanted.”

“Hmm.” Marian paused, chewing her lip. “No, I don’t think you should’ve. You didn’t even deserve that option if you ask me.”

“I didn’t think so, either. That’s why I returned it.”

“Good call.” And with new lightness in her voice, Marian said, “I’m the one who delivered the flower basket, you know.” 

“Really?”

Marian gave a proud smirk. “I go grocery shopping by myself sometimes, too. I only got lost once.”

That sounded too good to be true.

The movie went on. From time to time, the ceiling creaked as Ann moved around upstairs, walking to and fro, barefooted. Lister could see it in her mind’s eye. 

It must have been the picture of happiness for Argus. All three of his favourite people in the same place. He made multiple round trips between the living room and upstairs. Every time, he came back with the biggest smile on his face and the faint scent of Ann’s perfume on his fur. Lister would pull him into her arms, keeping him close until his restlessness resurfaced, and would press a kiss on his forehead before letting him trot off again.

When the movie ended—Lister had been too busy with something else to enjoy it—Marian stretched her limbs as she let out a long yawn into the empty popcorn bowl. They remained seated and watched the end credits.

“It’s odd,” Marian said. “I never imagined I’d watch an entire film with you.” 

Lister rubbed sleep out of her eyes. “Well, we could do that again if you’d like. I don’t think we ever did anything regular siblings do as kids.”

“I like the sound of that.” After another short pause for a breath, Marian slapped her knees and stood up. “Alright, it's time I started cooking dinner.”

Lister gave a nod, but changed her mind a second later. “I could give you a hand."

Marian responded with a bizarre look, wide-eyed and bare-teethed in a 'yikes' way. "I'm not so sure about that. I mean, you can't even tell a tablespoon from a teaspoon."

“That's— I can, now.”

“You once mistook sugar for salt,” Marian said as she walked off.

Standing up, Lister followed her. “How was I supposed to know the difference? The bottles looked identical.”

“They were labelled.”

“And I never made the same mistake again.”

“Uh-uh, it’s because I decided that the kitchen was off-limits to you after that.”

They had arrived in the kitchen, now standing face to face while Marian put on her Dexter apron. She removed another apron from a wall-mounted hook and threw it to Lister. It was Ann’s. It smelled of Ann. 

Together, they cooked veggie pies, a quick and simple dish according to Marian. But as ingredients piled up on the kitchen island, it became clear that their definitions of a simple dish did not agree with each other. Good thing the job assigned to Lister was to watch the fire and stir the ingredients in the pan. In other words, just watching Marian do the actual work. 

It was the first time Lister had ever seen her sister’s knife skills so closely. The knife hit the chopping board to the rhythm that was reminiscent of tap dance. It impressed her, secretly. And if she didn’t know any better, the efficient way in which her sister carried herself around the kitchen would’ve given her the impression that she had lived in this house for a long time. 

“You’ve been here for three weeks,” Lister said, stirring mushrooms. 

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“Taking care of Ann. And back home, Father and Aunt. I always leave you to look after other people.”

Marian shrugged, spreading butter on a muffin tin tray. “Maybe. It’s not a pain.”

“I’ve never learned to be like that.”

“Small steps. It takes courage, being kind. But I’d like to believe that when the world is filled with negativity, kindness is an act of rebellion.” Marian grinned at her. “And we both know which one of us is the more rebellious.” 

Despite the guilty conscience, that managed to bring a tiny smile to Lister’s face.

They put the muffin tray in the pre-heated oven, crouching down to gaze inside. Marian turned her head around. “Do you want to stay and eat with us, if Annie is okay with that? We just made enough for the three of us.”

Lister kept staring into the red-hot room. The occasional footsteps upstairs meant that Ann was awake, and she was very likely aware of Lister’s presence in the house, too. But she had not come down. It made sense. It was only yesterday that Lister had rejected her marriage proposal.

She stood up and took off her apron. “I should go home. Mrs. Cordingley's cooking for me.” 

She said goodbye to Argus, promising to see him tomorrow, and went back to her own place. 

…

Ann didn’t show herself the next day, either.

The first thing Lister did on the visit was, following proper procedures, to ask how Marian was. The second was to ask how Ann was. The third was to greet Argus. And at last, she made a beeline for the living room. She had forgotten to check upon the lavenders the day before. 

In the sombre sunlight, the green of little sprouts graced the brown surface of the soil. 

“Aren’t they cute?” Marian said, standing next to her. “I take a photo every morning to keep a plant journal. Look.” She showed Lister the photos on her phone. “You can literally see their growth like this.”

“Hmm, I’m relieved.”

Marian gave a nod. “Oh, I meant to ask, are you going home for the holiday?”

“I should. Aunt would be upset if I didn’t.”

“You’ve got Captain's birthday to make up for, too.”

“Right.” It had slipped out of her mind again. “Are you going home?”

“Only if Annie’s coming with us. We talked about this last night. It’s the end of the year. Of course, I want to spend time with my family, but I’m loath to leave her alone in the city.”

“What did she say, then?”

“She needs to sleep on it. That’s not a no.”

“Not a yes, either,” Lister said. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to be near me.”

“I mean, that’s a possibility,” Marian said in a sympathetic tone. “It’s complicated… Give her time.”

“I know.”

“For what is worth, she liked the pies. Had two of them last night. I told her you had helped me cook, and she smiled.” 

That set Lister’s heart to fluttering. She perched herself on the sill. The faint warmth of sunlight and the chilly air that penetrated through the window glass licked her upper back in unison.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Marian said. “Another movie? I was knitting, but I highly doubt this will entertain you.” She waved a hand at the pile of wool yarn and knitting needles on the couch.

Lister looked back down at the lavenders. She knew what she wanted to do, but didn’t know how to bring it up. Swallowing her discomfort, though, she said, “How much do you remember about Mother?”

There was a brief pause. “Less than you do, obviously,” Marian said.

"You were so little at that time."

Marian shrugged. "Not that little. I was eight or seven. Of course, I remember her face because there are photos of her. But her scent or voice or laughter, I don’t think I would recognise any of them today. I still remember how she hugged me, though, after I’d come home crying because boys were mean to me.”

Lister, too, remembered that. “You have her laughter. Shrill. Annoying.” 

“Good to know.” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Lister said, fiddling with the collar of her shirt, “why I’m the way I am. Then, I remembered she used to call me her strong girl. She once said that, because you were almost always crying, you must’ve taken after her, and because I barely cried as a child, I must’ve taken after Father.”

“I wasn’t always crying.”

“You were— Anyway, the point is that I was proud of being her strong girl, being like Father. And when she—” Lister felt a lump in her throat. “I never saw him cry when she passed. Maybe he did literally behind closed doors. But my impressionable young mind saw it as the image of true strength. Never showing emotions. Stoic. Over the years, I’ve come to learn that he was not as perfect as I had once thought. But this part, this idea of strength, stuck with me.” She looked up, only to see Marian knitting. “Excuse me, are you even listening?”

“I am,” Marian’s voice got shrill, as it always did when she felt the need to be defensive. “I just felt awkward just staring at you. It’s so weird and surreal seeing you so emotional, okay? Keep talking.”

Lister rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, I still carried this wrong idea of strength into adulthood." Heaviness returned in her chest. Her sister’s quirk could only do so much to alleviate her woe. “That includes my inability to… to apologise, to admit to my mistakes. And it worked in the corporate world. The slightest display of softness was regarded as a sign of weakness, an unsuitable quality for a leader. So, I buried it even deeper. I was good at it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t know where I went wrong.” Her entire life now seemed like the culmination of wrong choices. Not a single correct choice to be found. 

“I know,” Marian said, “what people say about you behind your back.”

“Hmm.”

“I try not to see or hear, but it’s everywhere. And, well, it’s been your whole life, hasn’t it? They have always called you nasty things because you were different.”

Lister blinked away the tears as ugly childhood memories flashed before her eyes. “I didn’t care. I always rose above it.” A sob escaped her. “But I never thought it’d hurt anyone.”

Silence enveloped them. Argus got down from the couch and came to rest his chin on her knees, giving her a worried look as though he wanted to cry as well.

“Are you done?” Marian said.

Lister nodded. Though, she was afraid that her monologue might not have met the standard Marian had set.

“Okay.” Marian put down her knitting set. “Do you remember what you said to me when I was struggling to come to terms with my aromantic orientation?”

Lister had cracked some jokes to cheer her up then. But they weren’t probably what Marian meant. She shook her head. 

“You said it’s no use wondering why I’m aromantic. You don't ask that to a gay or trans person. So, why should I? Maybe you said it because you were tired of me moaning non-stop. But it was more powerful than any words of encouragement.”

Indeed, Lister had said it in order to dodge any more existential questions.

“It could apply to this, too,” Marian said. “I mean, a therapist might disagree. Your identity and personality aren’t the same, but... I think it's more important to just  _ know _ what you are and where you want to go in your life.”

Lister pondered. “What am I?”

“A bitch.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“And I think you’re on the right path now.” Marian picked up her knitting set, resting her hands on the heap of wool yarn that came in multiple warm colours. 

The end of the conversation. 

Lister released a long sigh of relief. This had gone better than any dreadful scenarios her brain had conjured up. The world was still not on fire, nor did Marian mock her for her vulnerability. The lump in her throat was gone. The tears were cooling down on her lower eyelashes. Whatever reservation left in her, her vexation at Marian had blown it away in the end. It was a special skill. 

Her hand seemed to shake slightly as she petted Argus. She continued to do so until she regained her calmness. He closed his eyes in content. Watching it, she reproached herself for ever thinking she could live without his affection. She had almost abandoned all of this. 

…

The passing of time had always felt slow in Ann’s house. Not monotonous, but as though every cell in her body was aware of the flow of it. And the sensation felt particularly tangible the last couple of days. This house had the serenity that filled her being in the park in the early hours of the morning. Lister had never experienced it in her own place. 

From the windowsill, Lister observed as the pair of knitting needles moved up and down in Marian’s hands. Her index finger, with a thread of dark green wool looped around it, wiggled at the tips of the needles. She knitted fast. It looked like the needles were her two extra index fingers. 

“What are you knitting anyway?” Lister said.

“A winter scarf. For you.”

“I hate scarves. They’re scratchy.”

Marian looked up with a disapproving frown. “But you always look cold. With this, at least, you can be warm while sad. A lesbian grief scarf, if you will.”

“I get too hot. And I’m not wearing anything with a ridiculous name like that. Shouldn’t you have it finished usually before winter—”

“Annie helped me pick the colours.”

On second thought, Lister could see how nice the colours were. They were not dull, but not too bright. Quite classy. 

Lister maintained a cool facade. “What do you two usually do during the day?”

“Hmm?” Marian kept her gaze fixed on the scarf, her hands constantly in motion. “Take a walk in the park, a movie marathon, cook, talk…”

“Is that what regular people do?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” Lister said, “what people do to spend time when they don’t need to work.”

A tiny grimace of puzzlement appeared on her face. “Are you retiring?”

“No, not retiring. Of course, not. But I've got to wait for the dust to settle.” Lister made a vague gesture with her hand in the air. “And Ann is my top priority now… I can’t linger around here all day, though, can I? I want to give her time.”

“Yeah, it might make her feel pressured if you're here all the time,” Marian said. “You should find a hobby. There’s more to life than making money.”

The myriad of hobbies Marian had ever mentioned cascaded through her mind. None of them piqued her interest.

“Or do volunteer work,” Marian said. “It’ll look good on your resume, I’m sure.”

That sounded better, more achievable than finding a hobby. “Alright.” 

Although she had donated to charities before, she’d never taken an active role for any of their causes. There had never been enough time to donate. Now, she had it in abundance.

Argus woke up from a nap and stood on the couch. The doorbell chimed.

Marian continued to knit. “Can you get that? I’m sure it’s another package from the other side of the world.”

And it was. The package came from Nairobi, had FRAGILE stickers on, and was bulky and heavy. Lister had an idea of what was inside. The weight of anxiety sat on her shoulders, then, as she could already hear Marian’s disapproving words.

She carefully put it down by the coffee table in front of Marian. The packing tape came off and revealed the contents. Swaddled in bubble wraps and wedged between blocks of styrofoam were, just as Lister had predicted, pottery flower pots. 

Marian ran her finger over the varnished surface of one of them. “Aren’t they quite fancy.” The tone of her voice was hard to read.

Lister hung her head. “I had read an online story about a husband who planted flowers for his blind wife so that it might help her battle depression… I thought I might do the same.”

“Yeah, I've read it, too. It’s one of my favourite love stories.”

“But they're just useless gifts, aren't they?”

Marian’s head snapped up. “No, no. I actually think it’s thoughtful. Well, they have no need to be this fancy, but filling this house with flowers? Love it.”

Delightful bafflement rendered her speechless for a second. “So, you won’t send them back?” 

“Nope.”

“Oh.” For once, Lister felt like she had done something right. “I will get flowers tomorrow, then— Um, do you know what her favourite flower is?”

“Hmm, no. Lilies? Lesbians love lilies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked her,” Lister said. She looked at the lavenders on the windowsill, searching her memory. “No, I don’t think I have. Can you ask her tonight?”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Marian then gave a roguish grin as she shook her head. “Flowers… Such a cheesy idea. Who knew the mighty Anne Lister would be so darn in love, huh?”

Lister opened her mouth to hit back, holding her hand up in an authoritative pose. But one of Marian’s words got stuck at a synapse in her brain and short-circuited her whole system. It took her one second too long to recover. 

And to her displeasure, Marian beat her to it. “Oh my God. Anne. Please tell me you knew.”

She was in love with Ann.

The realisation hit her hard, physically paralysing her. 

Marian’s longest groan echoed through the house. “You can’t be serious.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lister said. 

“Oh, Anne. You’re so unbelievable!”

“Don’t  _ Anne  _ me right now. I’m busy.”

“Then, stop being such a deadly incorrigible, stupid moron! Seriously, what's the value of journal keeping if it isn’t for introspection?"

Lister shushed her. “Stop shouting. She’ll hear it.” She tried to remain calm, but couldn’t with her sister’s high-pitched lamentation breaking her train of thought every other second. “I need to… go home and think.” That was all she could manage to communicate before stumbling out of the room.

As she walked down the hall, Marian said from the living room, “I should get paid for babysitting your feelings like this, you know!” 

…

Lister was in love with Ann, the thought never ceased to roll around her mind as she stepped into her flat. She was in love. She put food in a soup plate and ate. It was soup. What kind, she was too preoccupied to try to observe. In love. The thought sat at the bottom of her stomach and refuse to let anything else through. 

She supposed she’d known, in the depths of her consciousness, that it was love. There was fondness. There was affection. But having the words 'in love' said out loud, having these feelings explicitly labelled as such, it made her view everything through a different lens. Like the apple that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden. A secret ability that she had not possessed before.

Now, it all seemed to make sense, piecing together one big puzzle that she hadn't realised needed mending. The way Ann’s soft yawn drowning out the sound of clinking dishes gave her inexplicable delight at breakfast. How the brief moment before falling asleep in each other’s arms was the most soothing thing, listening to their breathing get into sync. The way she had so stubbornly—though unskillfully—tried to stick with Ann through her grief. The pain she'd felt at the thought of Ann being with someone else. It could have been any more obvious. 

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Marian.

**Piglet** : Jasmine.

Right. Lister had to bring Ann flowers tomorrow. It had almost slipped out of her mind. She googled jasmine, and there turned out to be a wide variety of them to choose from.

_ What species?  _ Lister texted back.

**Piglet** : Dunno. Just jasmine.

Images of Ann in a garden of full-blown flowers filled her heart to the brim. It was an explosive sensation. 

Being in love itself was not new to her. But this felt different. It got her feeling high, but feeling small at the same time, like being stranded in the middle of the ocean of emotions. And her heart was already half-broken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you guys say anything- No, Lister wasn't aware of her feelings. LOL Told you she's a clown! Sometimes it be like that


	24. A SNEAK PEEK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to celebrate International Women's Day, I give this to y'all. just a little scene from the next chapter that I'm working on.  
special shout out to MsTonyFox, who asked for an IWD gift LOL

*A scene in which Lister, Ann, Marian, and Argus are out in the city.*

Ann handed her the dog leash. As Lister received it, their fingers brushed against each other’s. Her heart sang. She was sure Ann could feel the vibration of it, too.

“See you later,” Lister said. “Have fun— I mean, not have fun, but—”

Ann chuckled softly, ducking her head. “I will try.” She gave a coy lip-biting smile before entering the building.

“Just so you know,” Marian said, “you two act like teenagers crushing hard on each other, but oblivious to the other person's crush. It's giving me second-hand embarrassment.” With that, she also disappeared into the building.

For some moments, Lister had to cover her mouth with a hand to hide her uncontrollable grin.


	25. Which way is South?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Ann(e)s finally talk!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A mention of self-harm, big sad :(

Her favourite flower shop only had one type of jasmine around this time of year. Lister should’ve known. Winter is not a season for flowers. Other flower shops across the city told her the same, some recommending jasmine seeds, while Lister was searching for ones with open flowers. She purchased the seeds in case. Better than none. But one tiny shop near the edge of Chinatown, by luck, had one jasmine species that had cute swelling buds. 

“A gift?” The florist asked.

Lister willed herself in vain not to blush. “Yes. For my… ex.” 

Saying that out loud hurt. Ann was no longer her girlfriend. It had never occurred to her how much pain that idea would bring her. 

The shop had three tiny shrubs of the jasmine in stock. She bought all of them. The smell of soil permeated her Bugatti as she drove through the city. It was starting to drizzle.

She parked the car in front of Ann’s house and got out, gathering up the flower pots off the floor of the backseat. Bits of soil had spilled through the holes in the bottom of the pots and tainted the carpet. It didn’t bother her. However, as carrying three pots at once posed too big a risk, she had to leave one for the next trip. _ That _bothered her.

She headed to the door. Something on the terrace caught her eye. It was Ann, sitting on the floor with her back against the railing, showing her back to Lister. For a moment, Lister stood frozen on the pavement and gazed up at her. But Ann remained in the same position. Only one storey apart, it felt like there was an ocean between them.

With the cumbersome pots in both of her arms, she skilfully knocked on the door. The door opened. She handed them to Marian and made another trip for the remaining one. Ann was still there in the drizzle when she looked at the terrace again.

Back inside the house, Lister put the pot by the foyer window with the other two.

“What are they?” Marian examined those baby shrubs at her feet.

“Winter jasmine. They bloom in, well, winter. Is Ann okay?” 

“Define 'okay.'” Marian extended her arm toward her. “You got some dirt on your jacket—”

“I saw her on the terrace. It's raining.”

Her hand hanging in the air, Marian tilted her head. “No?”

“What do you mean no? I saw her sitting out there.”

“Because—” But Marian closed her mouth with a grimace. “Hold on a sec, you do know that she’s scared of heights, right? She can’t even stand on a chair?”

Lister indeed did not know.

“Oh my God.” Marian massaged her temples with the heels of her hands. “You guys aren't even there yet? Really?” 

Lister tried to snap out of it. “Then— Then, what is she doing on the terrace? In the rain?”

“I don’t know,” Marian said with a furrow of her brow. Then, after a moment of silence and stasis, she gestured to the staircase. “What are you doing? Go. Go talk to her.”

Lister hesitated. “But I don’t know if she wants to see me—”

“Just go!”

Slightly qualing at the urgency, Lister rushed up the stairs and to the bedroom. The door was closed. Despite knowing the meaningless of her action, she knocked twice, and only when no answer came, she turned the knob and pushed it.

On the bed was the Teddy Bear that Lister had bought her, and next to it was Argus, watching Ann through the French window with clear apprehension on his face. Lister did the same, feeling her palms sweat, before mustering courage to open the window. 

Ann looked up at the sound. The colour of surprise flitted across her tear-soaked face as her eyes locked with Lister's. But the next moment, she hid her face from her, hastening to wipe away her tears and bury her face back in her knees. Shutting Lister out.

Even if this was Ann's answer, the situation didn't allow Lister to accept it. She stepped out onto the terrace, and crouched down before her, slowly. Every movement she made was deliberate so as not to alarm Ann. Because Ann was fragile. Ann was timid. Ann was defenceless. 

Ann didn’t meet her gaze, instead picking at the chapped skin of her bottom lip. Her fingertips had patches of blood from it. 

With a gentle hand on Ann’s, Lister made her stop it. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s raining.”

Ann said nothing, nor did she move. It was clear what she wanted, which Lister had to yet again respectfully deny.

Lister took her jacket off and draped it over Ann’s shoulders and head. The best shield against the rain she could offer right now without leaving her side. Afterwards, she backed away and sat herself against the railing on the other side of the terrace, a mirror image of Ann. 

The raindrops were growing fatter. They fell on the back of her neck, sliding down her back under the clothes. She shivered. She watched as the rain turned every centimetre of the terrace floor darker in colour. 

"You,” Ann said at last, “told me you'd never come back."

Lister couldn’t discern if that was a genuine question or an accusation. "I understand I'm contradicting myself, but I talked to Marian after that and… thought the situation had changed."

Ann squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks wet. 

“I could go now if you want me to,” Lister said. “Just, you’d have to come in. I can’t leave you here in the rain. And— Marian said that you had a fear of heights.” A couple of past scenes flashed through her mind in succession. “The parade float, and my office… Why have you never told me?”

Ann’s breath came out trembling. “I knew I was never enough for you.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s true. I knew. So, I tried so hard to keep up with you. Buying new clothes not to embarass you, cooking for you”—Ann took a deep breath—“Pretending to be brave. But it still wasn’t enough.”

“You were enough, Ann.”

She chuckled, devoid of joy. “Was I?”

“Yes.”

“...You said that you did care for me.” There was an unreadable element in her voice.

“I did. I did care for you—”

Ann shook her head in a firm motion. “But I wanted you to say ‘I do care for you.’ _ Still _care about you. You spoke in the past tense like it was over for you, when I wanted you to fight for me. I wanted you to bother to convince me otherwise, to show that I was worth it.”

Lister gaped at her, speechless. 

“When I heard you downstairs yesterday,” Ann said, “I told myself I should work up the nerve to go see you because it might really be the last time you’d be here. But the voice… I hear a voice in my head.” Ann sobbed and heaved. “You gave up on me.”

“I did not. I have not.” At last, Lister lifted herself up off the ground and went to her on all fours. “I’m here, Ann. I’m finally here.” Her hands slid into Ann’s. 

Ann, however, winced and pulled her hands back. But not fast enough. Lister caught a glimpse of something and took her hands again, more gently this time. Both of her palms and fingers were covered with wounds. Rugged puncture wounds. Some fresh, while others were healing. 

Lister ran her fingers over them. "Barbed wire?"

Ann said nothing, averting her gaze.

Lister’s heart clenched so hard she thought she could never speak. She bowed her head, pressing her forehead to those wounded hands. “I’m so sorry, Ann. This is all my fault. I’m so weak and stu—” _ Stupid_, but she wouldn’t say it. This was what Marian was talking about. “Every day, I regretted what I have done to you. Every second of the day, I wondered— Wished we had met under different circumstances so I never would’ve had to hurt you like this—”

“But,” Ann said. She gave a despondent smile as Lister looked up. “You wouldn’t have stuck with me, then. If it hadn’t been for the stock, I would’ve never had a chance.”

“Of course, you would have.”

“No. I knew,” Ann said, picking at the scabs on her palm. “I used to wonder what you saw in me. Everybody knows that I’m not your type. I would’ve been no more than a fling, and that’s it.”

Lister held back the urge to say ‘I’m in love with you.’ That would sound cheap. That didn’t feel right. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know,” Ann said. “I don’t even know if I could ever be confident in your love again. But I don’t want a life without you, either. I don’t know.” And her wounded hand reached and grasped Lister’s in an iron grip. “Please. Don’t give up on me. I want you to try.”

Lister looked down at their hands. And despite the vortex of emotions, she had a moment of clarity. To hold hands, what an intimate gesture it was. It had magic in it. It amazed her in that moment how she’d failed to see it before. 

She loved her. And she loved her, too.

“I promise,” Lister said.

The drizzle was growing heavier. It trickled down Ann’s cheeks, indistinguishable from her tears. 

Lister touched her hand to Ann’s face, and when she met no resistance, she cupped her cheek. “Let’s go back inside?”

With a nod, Ann shut her eyes tight and let Lister pull her up by the hands. She was frightened of heights, Lister remembered. Carefully, as not to make Ann trip, Lister guided her off the terrace one step at a time. When both of Ann’s bare feet were on the carpeted floor of the bedroom, they stopped.

“You’re safe now,” Lister said.

Ann’s eyes slowly opened and found Lister’s. She drew closer, in silence, and wrapped her arms around her neck. “I missed you,” she said in the root of her neck.

Lister hugged her tightly. “I missed you, too.” 

“I’m sorry you lost your job.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t support you when you needed me.” 

Ann nodded. Her lips trembled against Lister’s skin. “I’m sorry I read your journal.”

The wound was there, in Lister’s heart. The fact that she hurt Ann more didn’t make it disappear. But it was starting to heal. She was sure of it. “I forgive you,” she said.

…

The world had few things more dangerous and self-destructive than false hope. Lister knew it. Her youth had been so full of it. She used to hold a firm belief that hope was what set humanity apart from other animals. Hope used to be a synonym of ambition.

She lay on her side of the bed and watched Ann, who had fallen asleep, snore softly in peace. She had never done it before. Work used to demand most of her time. And watching another person sleep was, she used to think, the biggest waste of time, just as sleep itself was time-wasting. But it had value that transcended time. A truth that her new-found secret power enabled her to see. 

After a _ very _short amount of time, however, she remembered about Marian and the flower pots downstairs. Some more minutes went by in the sound of soft breathing and rain. At last, she decided to get up.

Walking down the stairs, she rubbed residual tears from her eyes and pretended to be heavy-lidded to disguise it as sleepiness. 

But Marian lifted her eyes from her knitting set, took one look at her, and said, “You cried again?”

Lister sat down, ignoring her comment. 

“What did you talk about?” Marian said.

It was difficult to summarise. She had yet to process it all herself. “We, uh, apologised to each other, and she said she wanted to give me a second chance.”

“Yeah…” Marian said. “She’s been wanting to do that. But I advised her to wait. It would’ve been a terrible idea to give you another get-out-of-jail-free card like that.”

“I know that Ann has promised me nothing, of course.” 

The chasm between them still remained wide and deep. But now, Lister found her young self making a comeback. She felt ambitious. Ambitious to be happy. And Ann had to be in the picture, no matter how that might be. 

Lister looked up. “She’s got, um… scars, on her hands.”

“Oh.” Marian frowned. “Yes.”

“I wish you'd told me.”

“Yeah but, you would've come straight back out of guilt, and then what? No self-reflection on your part? That would've benefited none of us.”

“But if I’d known that she was hurting that much—” Lister said. “Beneficial or not, I think I have an obligation to know.”

Although Marian still seemed unconvinced, she gave a shrug. “Alright, then. Should the same thing happen again…”

“Of course, I’ll do my best to make sure it won’t.”

“And what’s she doing now?” 

“Oh, um. Sleeping.” Lister didn’t tell her that she’d fallen asleep an hour ago. That would’ve begged the inevitable question as to what Lister had been doing.

And perhaps this sliver of secrecy hit Marian differently. She made a funny face. The mouth in a grimace and the brows raised in bemusement. The one she made when an inappropriate thought popped up in her mind. 

“Because she got tired from crying,” Lister said. “We weren’t— We were just talking.”

“Brilliant. Cool.” Marian bobbed her head. “Because that would’ve made me mildly uncomfortable. To think my own big sister is shagging my best friend is already weird enough, but to be in the same house when—”

Lister groaned. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Alright, then.” Marian lowered her knitting set to her lap. “Another therapy session.”

“Another?”

“Like yesterday.”

That made Lister cringe a little. “That was not therapy. I don’t need therapy. I’m not depressed.”

“You don’t need to have depression to need therapy. It’s just talking, but on a deeper level. May I remind you that you wouldn’t have even realised your feelings for Annie if it hadn’t been for me? There are probably more painfully obvious things that you haven’t twigged yet.”

Her sister had a point, though Lister wasn’t going to admit that. 

"I call bollocks on this," Marian kept going. "Why am I, an aromantic, more observant of your romantic attraction than you, the person to whom the feelings belong?"

Lister shifted her attention away, and as the lavenders on the sill caught her eye, she remembered about the jasmine. She stood up and headed out of the room.

“Oi, where are you going, lady?” Marian said. “I’m not done with you.”

“The jasmine. We can’t leave them in the foyer.”

They were as Lister had left them. The tiled floor, like her car carpet, had a trail of soil that she hadn’t taken notice of. 

Marian came out into the hallway, walking up to her at a leisurely pace. “We’ll talk. You cannot run from the truth.”

“You just want something to gossip about later.”

“And? Your point?”

Lister heaved a sigh before gesturing at the flower pots. “Well, where do you suggest we put them?”

“Right. So, I consulted Professor Google about how to take care of them”—Marian gave her a sheet of paper—“while you were upstairs ‘talking’ to her.”

“We _ were _ talking.” 

"That's what I said. Calm your tits.” 

On the paper was Marian’s illegible handwriting. If Lister squinted quite hard and tilted her head, she might be able to decode some words here and there. But puzzles were never her forte. 

“Why have you never taken up calligraphy, I wonder?” Lister said.

“I do watch some Insta videos actually.”

“Then, why is your handwriting still horrendous?”

Marian frowned, took a glance at the paper, and shrugged. “Even a professional swimmer walks on land.”

“Stop talking in riddles.”

"Anywho," Marian said, snatching the paper from her hand, "In winter, you only have to water once a week. And it only needs sunlight a couple of hours a day, so it's best to keep it by windows facing South." She looked up with the lift of a brow. "Which way is South?"

They both looked around the house as though there was a weathervane to be found inside.

Lister pointed in one direction as the London map drew itself in her mind. "Hyde Park is that way, and Holland Park is that way, so South is…"

"That way." With clear certainty, Marian also pointed her hand in one direction, which Lister had to physically correct to point in the exact opposite direction. "That way," she said it again just as confidently.

But the south-facing windows also faced the house next door. They had another fuss over it. Lister thought it would be useless if there were walls blocking sunlight. To the contrary, Marian argued that the space between the walls was big enough, which was utter bollocks in Lister's opinion. In the end, two of the pots found their places outside on the doorstep, on either sides of the door. The third one settled by the studio window.

They stood in the studio, looking down at the plant as the rain tapped on the window behind it. 

Marian squinted down at the sheet of paper again. “Now, what does it say… Oh, it’ll start to bloom around January. And it can achieve four to fifteen feet in height if you don't trim it regularly— How tall is four feet in metres?”

Lister quickly did the math. “One metre and a bit.”

“Shoot, that’s big.” Marian turned her head to her. “You bought it. You have to be the primary caregiver.”

“Of course.”

Lister would have to learn how to trim these shrubs. Manual labour was easy to learn. Easier than emotional one. Then, it dawned on her that it was practically an endorsement from her sister. She was saying Lister had to be in Ann’s life in one way or another, that it was her obligation now.

Lister cast a subtle glance at her. It was when she saw Ann in the doorway, peeking in from behind the wall. They locked eyes with each other, and a tiny smile slowly, but surely crept across Ann’s lips.

…

Ann had an appointment with her therapist that weekend. Lister was given permission to walk with her, Marian, and Argus to the building her therapist’s clinic was in. Argus’ lead was in Ann’s hand. She and Marian walked side by side, while Lister trailed behind them like the proper third wheel that she was.

It was a short walk in terms of geographical distance. But it felt long. Their pace was leisurely, giving Argus enough time to sniff at stuff, pointing at things they liked. Lush gardens of some houses, a pigeon that had more charisma than the others, the rich smell of fresh bakery in the air and the like. Anything that they found fascinating enough to talk about. 

Lister reminisced about the first time Ann had done it with her during their morning walk, and about the days that Lister was learning to do the same. It had been a foreign concept for her before then. Because of Ann, she now knew how to enjoy the walk. 

Lister could hear their murmurs in the quiet neighborhoods, it was satisfactory enough. Once they reached a busy street, however, the noise of the cars and people drowned their voices out. 

She wished Ann would give her a glance. It didn’t matter how short or unintentional it might be. To her delight, her unspoken wishes came true one time out of five. But more often than not, her wish was granted by Marian, who would look back at her with a devious grin before whispering in Ann’s ear. Together they’d giggle, and only then would Ann cast a joyful eye at her. Lister didn’t appreciate them having fun at her expense one bit. 

But, under the winter sky, the curve of Ann’s lips gave off holy light. 

They arrived at the building of destination. 

“Alright,” Marian said to Lister, “meet us in that cafe in an hour.” She pointed at a tiny cafe with green walls across the street. “We always have late lunch there. You can join.” 

Ann handed her the dog lead. As Lister received it, their fingers brushed against each other’s. Her heart sang. She was sure Ann could feel the vibration of it, too.

“See you later,” Lister said. “Have fun— I mean, not have fun, but—”

Ann chuckled softly, ducking her head. “I will try.” She gave a coy lip-biting smile before entering the building.

“Just so you know,” Marian said, “you two act like teenagers crushing hard on each other, but oblivious to the other person's crush. It's giving me second-hand embarrassment.” With that, she also disappeared into the building.

For some moments, Lister had to cover her mouth with a hand to hide her uncontrollable grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! No more lies between them!


	26. Did you get into a street fight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How’s everybody doing in these trying times? Hope this chapter would cheer you up a bit :)
> 
> TW; A mention of abuse.

Argus seemed ecstatic to spend time alone with Lister for the first time in weeks. He would pull at the lead and often would look back at her, making sure she was following. 

But after a while, he grew used to her presence and began to behave more freely. Stopping to take a sniff at everything that piqued the slightest of his interest. Getting distracted by passers-by who did so much as wave at him. Too freely for Lister's liking. Many times, she had to order him to ‘heel,’ and even then, he couldn’t seem to stay close by her side for a long period of time. 

“They’ve been spoiling you, good boy,” Lister said to him “You have so much to relearn.” 

But the idea warmed her heart rather than exasperated her. It reminded her of his childhood—puppyhood?—when he was physically awkward and quite slow to learn tricks. Since then, he had grown up to be such an intelligent and supportive companion. Such a gentleman. He made her proud.

Lister looked up from him. The streets and the windows of local businesses were decorated with festive lights and ornaments. Though it was still too bright to light up, the colours created the merriment that this melancholy city lacked under the grey sky. When the door of a shop opened as Lister walked by, jaunty holiday music spilled over into the street. She had never taken the time to appreciate it all before. Things had always been too hectic around this time of year.

Come to think of it, a large portion of this city had changed since Lister had moved here as an ambitious, ignorant lass from Halifax two decades ago. So many changes. Her memories, however, were blurry as per usual. She knew the city had changed. But she couldn’t seem to remember the city before these changes.

A myriad of thoughts whirled through her mind. She walked without an aim or attention to her surroundings, allowing Argus to walk her. When she got her head out of the clouds for a brief moment, she realised she had wandered into an unfamiliar neighbourhood. A bit away from the central part of the city. A bit shabby. And no street decorations or jaunty music. But it did not worry her. Unlike her sister, Lister had good map-reading skills if the situation called for it. She kept walking, ordering Argus to heel. 

An ear-splitting scream came from somewhere close, then. Argus started, tucked his tail between his legs, and finally heeled as ordered. Lister checked the perimeter and saw, just a couple of doors ahead, two burly men dragging a man out of the house. Lister kept walking forward, undeterred, in spite of Argus's timidity. 

The burly men in black T-shirts put the man—the tenant, Lister quickly gathered—down on the pavement. There was already a pile of his belongings, blocking the narrow path. As the tenant sobbed with his head cradled in his hands, the burly men carried more stuff out of the house. Eviction in full swing. But there was a sign of foul play, quite obvious to anyone who was familiar with the eviction process.

“Where am I supposed to go?” the tenant shouted. “You want me to freeze to death on the street? Monster! Pig!”

It was none of her business. Lister skirted the pile and walked past the house. But something in her held her back, made her take one more look at the man. He was a man, old and white and very snotty. The last demographic group of people to evoke Lister’s sympathy, and even now, watching him wail didn’t shake her conscience in the slightest. 

But what about kindness? a little voice in her head said. 

Indeed, what about it? 

There was no point, another voice said, because there was no third party to witness her act of kindness. The performance would be for naught— Lister shook the thoughts away. The voice was wrong. Kindness is not a tool to enhance one’s reputation. 

Small steps, Marian had said. So, Lister would choose the rebellious path, even though the tenant repulsed her, of offering help. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said to the tenant, who remained sat on the pavement.

He bared his yellow teeth. “Now, what the bloody hell do you want?”

Lister curbed her instinct to respond with an equal level of aggression. “Don’t use that tone. I’m just a passer-by. May I ask why you’re being evicted?”

“None of your business. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

Perhaps this was a mistake after all. Looking away, then, she found a figure in the entranceway caught her attention. A ginger man in his forties, dressed in a suit jacket and jeans, as opposed to the casual clothes on his burly friends. 

“What’s your landlord’s name?” Lister looked down at the tenant. 

“Bugger off.”

She snapped, “I could be your last hope, old man. Do you want to lose your house or what? What is his name?” She enunciated each word of the last sentence.

Despite his lingering reluctance, he said, “Boyle.”

Lister strode towards the front door. Their rather blustery exchange seemed to have caught the attention of Mr. Boyle. He was already sizing her up. 

“May I help you, sir?” Boyle said.

“I hope so, Mr. Boyle. I see that you’re evicting your tenant. And, I’m nothing but a simple passer-by, but I was wondering if you could tell me the reason for his eviction.”

“Are you his family?”

“No, I just told you that I’m a passer-by.”

Mr. Boyle threw a nasty look at Argus before taking a step back in a blatant manner. “Keep that animal away from me. I don’t want its hair on my clothes.” 

With a poker face, Lister loosened her grip on the lead. “I’m certain you have justifiable reasons to evict him. I’d just like to know. I’m nosey that way. Tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glanced at the old man on the pavement and then at the burly men carrying furniture out, and sighed. “He failed to pay his rent. Seven months’ worth of it.”

Yes, those were justifiable reasons. Had Lister been in the same situation a few month ago, she would’ve made the same decision without feeling a pang of guilt. And yet— Lister looked at the old man over her shoulder. When she turned back around, Mr. Boyle was looking her over from head to toe.

“You’re…” His eyes narrowed as if it was at the tip of his tongue. “Lister. You’re Anne Lister.”

“Yes, I am.”

“They sacked you last month.”

“Indeed,” she said. “So, you know who I am, Mr. Boyle. Excellent. What would you say, with that knowledge, if I offered to pay his outstanding rent on his behalf and asked you to let him keep the tenancy?”

A dubious crease appeared between his brows. “Why would you do that?”

Lister gave a shrug. “Do I need a reason to be kind?”

“I’m a man of cynicism, so yes. I also know your character. There’s something fishy. No doubt.”

“It’s no use,” the tenant yelled from the pavement. “It’s not money that pig wants. He wants to kick me out! He increased the rent by 200 pounds, fully aware I can’t find that kind of bloody money—”

One of the bailiffs walked up and towered over him, making him stumble back.

“Go back to your son, then!” Boyle said to him before giving Lister a look, as though it was an inside joke shared between them. “He says he’s got nowhere to go, but really, he has a son. A son that he used to beat black and blue. He’s been alone since the son had kicked him out of their house. It’s kharma. He deserves it, don’t you agree?”

The situation, as it turned out, was more complicated than she had anticipated. A voice in the back of her mind told her to leave. Even as they talked, the group of bailiffs continued to work, emptying the house bit by bit.

“Perhaps,” Lister said, “he does.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lister gave the sharpest glower, the look that she was notorious for. “But your method turns my stomach even more.”

Boyle gaped. “What?”

“Let’s see. Your tenant claims you gave him a rent increase with the intention of removing him from the property. First off, as you know, increasing his rent without his agreement violates his rights, which are protected by Eviction Act 1977. Second, I can think of a few reasons why you might not want him as a tenant off the top of my head. It seems of little significance here, but your take-no-prisoners attitude intrigues me nonetheless, which leads me to— Third, can I see the papers?”

“Papers?”

“Yes, papers. Notices, issued by the court?”

A look of panic flet across Boyle’s pale face. “I don’t have them with me now.”

“Really? That’s odd. Do you know why?”

No answer. Lister’s speculations proved right. 

“Mr. Boyle, you can keep your lips sealed all you’d like, but I find your attempt futile when my questions are so easily answered.” Lister turned her head back around and addressed herself to the tenant, “Old man, did you receive official eviction notices?”

“Uh, like warnings?” the tenant said.

“Yes, warnings. Paper warrants issued by the county court.” 

“Physical paper? No. Nothing like that.”

“And today?” Lister said. “Did these people show you a warrant and give you any explanation?”

The old man shook his head. 

“He lies,” Boyle said. “He’s a chronic liar. Of course, I did give him notices.”

Lister missed the thrill of her old job and position. That was a fact. But dealing with this kind of bullocks was one of the few things that made her see the sacking as wonderful emancipation instead of accursed fate. 

“Very well, then,” she said. “Let’s say I believe your side of the story.” Her hand flew to grab the shoulder of one bailiff that was walking past her. She maintained eye contact with Boyle. “But how would you justify the fact that these average citizens are carrying out the eviction?”

“They’re—”

“Don’t try and tell me that they’re official bailiffs from the court, when you didn’t even bothered to put them in fake bailiff uniforms. It wasn’t necessary, I understand. You were just deceiving your ignorant tenant. You are very aware of the illegality of your own action.” 

“What an absurd accusation.”

“You increased his rent significantly in the hope that he would move out by his own volition. And when it didn’t work, you had to take more direct action, which makes me wonder why you didn’t go through the proper eviction process. What was it that made you take the risk? Hmm. I don’t know the truth, Mr. Boyle, but maybe you couldn’t wait. Eviction is a time-consuming process, lots of waiting time. Perhaps you had an urgent matter to resolve, like there was a potential buyer of the property, but they were going elsewhere that didn’t have a handful tenant to throw out.”

With tight lips, Boyle glanced at the burly men, who had all gathered to listen to Lister. But they looked more uncertain than hostile. The old tenant, too, had come to stand near them, still snotty, but with a hopeful glint in his eyes. 

“I will ask you again, Mr. Boyle,” Lister said. “If I offer to pay his outstanding rent, will you let him stay? Make sure to use your brain. The alternative is me calling the police on you. It might just result in a small fine, or maybe a short jail term. Either way—” She threw a quick look at the other men and their identical tattoos on their necks. “Associating yourself with local gang members won’t be a huge plus in court.”

Boyle visible shook with rage. Quite like a boiling electric kettle, which in itself was an abomination. “Fine. Whatever.” 

“And bring his rent back to the figure he initially agreed to?”

He heaved a sigh. “I will.”

Lister whipped her cheque book and pen out of her inner jacket pocket. She quickly wrote a cheque with the assistance of the old man, signed it, and gave it to Boyle. He snatched it from her hand with the typical bitterness of a white man. His feelings were the least of her concerns. When he tried to walk off, however, Lister moved to stand in his way. 

"Not so fast," she said. “I believe you owe it to him to put everything back in place, don’t you think?”

Boyle grimaced before glancing at the burly men. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” one of them said. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

A wide smirk crept across Lister’s lips. “I suppose you’d have to pay them double the amount,” she said to Boyle. 

So, the ginger man, still seething with barely contained rage, gave a nod to the men. They began to bring the furniture from the pavement back into the house with the same air of indifference as before. 

The old man watched the scene unfold with his mouth agape. And as he slowly turned to Lister, his entire face was scrunched up, quite on the verge of tears. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What’s your name, old man?” she said.

“Sam. Sowden.”

“Alright, Mr. Sowden. You should go back in, to order these men around if you want all of your stuff back in their place properly.”

With a nod, Sowden almost wobbled back into his house, brushing past his landlord. 

Boyle scoffed at his back, and then curled his lip at Lister. “Does it feel good to play a hero?”

“A heroine.”

“Whatever. You’re still a fool either way.”

Lister shot a smile.

It seemed like he was so disgusted that he couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore. “Certainly he isn’t the first poor person you’ve ever encountered. There are everywhere. You’ll see no end if you start to care about them. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

Lister looked over his shoulder into the dim house hallway, where Sowden was rearranging his photos on the walls. She looked back at Boyle. “Then, let me save this one man today, at least.”

She tied Argus outside the house and went in. Partially in order to give Sowden a hand, but mostly to keep an eye on the other men. She didn't trust them. Chances were that they would abandon Sowden the moment she left the site.

His house was filthy. It reeked of cigarette smoke, yellowing the wallpapers, and had cans of Budweiser scattered about on the floor and other surfaces. The only part of the house that seemed to escape the chaos was the hallway wall, where several weathered photos of his family made a nice gallery. 

She helped him and saw it through to the end. It took some hours. By the time she had said goodbye to him, Marian had texted her several times, informing that they had eventually gotten tired of waiting and left the cafe. 

…

Lister knew Marian would give her an earful for this. But it worried her none. What worried her was how this might have looked in Ann's eyes, what effect it might have on their trust relationship, still fragile and healing. Lister had broken their promise. No explanation, regardless of the legitimacy of it, could justify that.

Darkness of night was starting to enfold the city. She rushed down the streets that the overhead festive lights now illuminated. Although, she only took notice of little of the scenery.

She knocked on Ann’s door. 

It was, as usual, Marian that opened it. “Where have you been?” she said with one hand on her hip. 

Lister entered and unleashed Argus. “Look, I will listen to whatever you have to say later, okay? I just want to—” 

“Did you get into a street fight?” Marian frowned at the dirty spots on Lister’s trousers.

“Um, no,” Lister said, lightly slapping the dust off. “I was just, helping someone.”

“Oh?”

“Where’s she?”

Marian waved her hand in the direction of the stairs, so Lister strode towards them. Argus passed her on the stairs at full speed, skipping two steps at a time. And as the upstair floor came into sight, Lister saw Ann in the doorway of the studio, crouching down to give Argus scratches behind his ears. 

Ann looked up with uncertainty written all over her face. But when her eyes darted to Lister’s trousers, it turned into something else. “Did you have an accident?” she said with knotted brows.

“No, no. Not an accident. I’m not hurt.” 

Her trousers still had dirty spots that Lister had missed. With a sigh of relief, Ann reached out and did what Lister had done earlier, patting them, her other hand resting on the side of Lister's thigh, just below her pelvis.

She felt her heart flutter against her ribcage. “I was helping this… old man move back into his house, so to speak. I should’ve texted you. I made you and Marian worried for nothing.” And quickly she added, “I’m sorry.”

Ann gave a soft smile. “Oh. So, you haven’t eaten lunch yet?”

“Well, no. But I’m used to it.”

“I got you sandwiches from the cafe. I’ll fetch them for you now.” Ann walked past her towards the staircase.

“You really don’t need to—” 

“You wait there. I’ll be back.” With a light steps, accompanied by the heavy stamp of Argus, Ann vanished from sight.

Lister went into the studio, then. One of Ann’s protective gloves sat on the edge of the sculpture pedestal, the other one having fallen to the floor. She picked it up and reunited it with the other half.

It only took some more seconds until Ann returned, slightly out of breath, with BLT sandwiches. 

“Thank you,” Lister said. “How did the therapy go?”

Ann gave an uncertain shrug. “We talked about you. Dr. Day, my therapist, thinks it’s good that you’re back, that we’re giving this another try.” But her facial expression didn’t exactly match the optimistic tone of her speech. Some other thoughts were bouncing around in her head.

Lister ducked her head to meet her eyes. “You don’t need to tell me everything, okay? I know how emotionally exhausting therapy can be… I think.” 

That managed to bring a smile to her face. “Marian was complaining that you think you don’t need therapy.”

“Was she now?”

“Tell me about the man who were helping,” Ann said. “Is he your friend?”

“Hmm? No, I didn’t even know his name.” 

“But you still helped him?”

Lister struggled to explain it, though she would try for Ann's sake. While she ate the sandwiches in the armchair, she recounted the story of the shabby neighbourhood, the illegal practice of eviction, the things about kindness that Marian had told her, and Sowden’s past and current circumstances. By the time she had finished the talk, both of her sandwiches were gone unbeknownst to her. The lingering taste of the fresh tomatoes was the only proof that they were in her stomach. She really mustn't eat while preoccupied like this. 

“I gave him some cash for food and all before I left. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to live like that.”

“You did a noble thing,” Ann said from where she sat on the floor by the armchair. “Why are you grimacing?”

Lister hadn’t realised how tense she was. “I still don’t know if I made the right choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like I just said, this man used to beat his own family. His landlord thinks it’s kharma, and I couldn’t deny that.”

“Oh.”

“And what’s worse is that I understood him, the landlord. I was exactly like him, or maybe I still am.”

“But you’re not,” Ann said with a hint of defiance in her voice. “You helped the old man. You’re different.”

“Even if the act of kindness was performative?”

“He was going to be homeless. It’s more than performative to him.” Ann looked down, her brows knotted in concentration. “It’s a difficult subject. But he may have changed. Don’t you think that possibility is a good enough reason to help him?”

“Hmm.” Lister couldn’t find it convincing enough.

Silence fell between them. 

Ann let out a sigh. “Maybe I’m being naive.” 

“You mustn't think like that.”

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I’m so inarticulate. Marian would quote a movie or say something inspirational, but…”

“It’s fine,” Lister said with a smile, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s in the past. I can’t go back to his house and demand my money back anyway. I was just complaining… I’m sorry.”

Ann smiled back. Her hand slowly rose and perched on Lister’s knee. “I like it, remember? I love it when you talk to me about these things.”

The physical contact sent tingles down Lister's spine, coiling in her lower abdomen. While her earlier touch on Lister's hip might have been an accident, this one was not. She met Ann’s gaze. They had leaned in towards each other, the gap between their faces closing. The scent of Ann’s perfume made her giddy. Ann flicked a glance down at her lips, her faint breath echoing in the space between them. 

But something flitted across Ann’s face. The hand on Lister’s knee slid down as she broke eye contact. “I’m sorry,” Ann said.

“Don’t be.” And in a lighter tone of her voice, Lister nodded at the sculpture and said, “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to?”

They both stood up and walked to the pedestal with a round-shaped sculpture on it. 

“This one is almost finished,” Ann said. “The client wanted something similar to the one I made for the exhibit. At your gallery back in September.”

“I do remember.” Then, Lister realised with a heavy heart that it was no longer _ her _ gallery.

“The one before this was a horse. I'm not sure if you know…” Ann offered an apologetic smile and whipped out her smartphone.

“Yes, I saw it on your Instagram.”

Ann looked up, her eyes round. “You did?” A shade of red crept up her neck.

That sight, in return, got the pulsating heat from seconds ago to return in Lister's stomach. “Well, I missed you, and I didn’t know what to do.” 

Ann did not say anything back. But a tender smile graced her face, and that alone made Lister more content than anything in the world. She watched Ann put the protective gloves on and get back to work. Cutting the wire with pliers. Twisting and adding it to the sculpture. The muscles in her neck tensing. Blonde curls falling into her eyes.

Lister slowly moved to stand behind the sculpture. And from the other side of the webbing, Ann’s smiling eyes found hers.

“Are you just going to watch me work like that?” 

“Am I distracting you?” Lister said half in seriousness and half teasingly.

Ann shook her head. “It must be boring, though.”

“On the contrary, I can’t think of a better thing to do with my time."

“I don't believe that.”

Lister chuckled. “Marian suggested that I find a hobby or do volunteer work.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“No clue. Any suggestions?”

Ann, pursing her lips, put down the reel of wire and pliers. “Marian paints sometimes.” 

She led Lister by the hand to the corner of the studio. Her old paintings were lined up vertically on the floor like books on a shelf. Canvas stands were leaned up against the wall. White canvases and art supplies were stacked up in a more haphazard manner. Ann took off her gloves, handed them to Lister, and picked up a sketchbook from the stack. She flipped through the pages and showed Lister a watercolour painting of a plant. 

“It’s the jasmine plant.” Ann nodded at the flower pot by the window. “I only taught her a few things. She’s got a knack for it.”

Lister shrugged her shoulders. “She might, but I don’t.” 

“Everyone can make art. It's our intrinsic ability and desire, to create. You doodle sometimes. That's art, too.” Then, Ann’s face lit up as though a light bulb went on in her head. “I can teach you while we’re in Halifax.”

“Oh,” Lister said. “You’re coming, then? To Halifax, for the holiday?”

Ann gave a smile and a nod. “I already told Marian at lunch. We— I don’t know if you remember, but you and I made a promise. To visit your aunt and father for Christmas, and then go to Edinburgh to see Elizabeth…”

A grim shadow of reality weighed down their spirits. “Yes, I do remember that,” Lister said.

Ann looked down. Her face grew red as her eyes began to glisten. “I know Elizabeth is not there anymore. But I want to visit her grave and retrieve some of her stuff from Captain Sutherland’s house.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Ann’s lip trembled into a smile. “Will you?”

“Yes.” Lister lightly cupped her cheek. “I’ll be there with you.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Ann nuzzled her hand, and gave another nod.

How Lister wished to pull her closer, to press her lips against Ann’s, to have Ann's arms around her neck. But she couldn’t. Instead, she slid her hand down along Ann’s arm and took her hand. They laced their fingers together. Ann always had cold fingers. It pulled her heartstrings to know that it hadn't changed. Lister bowed her head to kiss the palm of Ann’s hand, but she froze at the sight of the scars.

Ann withdrew her hand with a look of shame. “I only used the wire twice or thrice," she said like an excuse. "I had never even hurt myself before this. I don’t want you to worry about that.” 

Still, Lister was worried. She felt a pang of guilt, swirling inside and making her stomach drop. That was not something she could control. So, she took her hand again and bowed, kissing the back of it first and then the palm. Many times. Her heart clenched at the way the scabs scratched against her lips, but she did not stop. She only did when Ann pulled her hand back, not in shame this time, but with a soft chuckle.

“It’s itchy,” Ann said, scratching her palm. One tiny scab came off and a drop of blood oozed.

In a swift but gentle manner, Lister separated Ann’s hands. “No, no. Don’t do that.”

“But it’s itchy.”

“Put the gloves on, then.” Lister held them out. 

“But—” 

“No but. No scratching.” But Lister failed to hold a straight face any longer when Ann pouted. “Uh-uh. No pouting.”

“Fine.” Ann said, and then put her hands behind her back. Shortly after, there came a scratching sound.

“Ann.”

She shrugged. “I’m not doing anything.” More scratching noises.

“Adney, I’m serious.” Lister presented her best I’m-very-serious face. When that didn’t seem to dissuade Ann, she took more direct measures and reached out, grasping her by the wrists. 

“No! I swear I wasn’t doing anything!” Ann yelped and giggled as she tried to wiggle out of the restraint.

“Oh, I almost forgot how bratty you can be, Adney.”

“Let me get one more scratch, Anne. Just one more, please?”

“Your request is kindly denied.”

Their laughter filled the studio. Argus had come in, wagging his tail. And Lister had, before either of them realised where they were going with this, pinned Ann to the wall, holding her hands above her head. The last note of their joyous chorus died down in the air that they breathed together. They could not move. Short of breath. Paralysed.

Ann’s eyes were now fixed on her lips. The rising and falling of her chest quickened, more palpable now. Lister was familiar with these signs enough to know what they meant. If she leaned forward, Ann wouldn’t push her away. She knew it, and ached to do exactly that, but told herself to stay still.

As if Lister’s thoughts flowed freely into Ann’s mind, her expression slightly stiffened. Her hands, now free, came to rest on Lister’s shoulders. She drew closer, her lips hovering right over Lister’s. Moments of suspension. But in the end, she pressed to her cheek a chaste kiss. 

It had to be good enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have conflicted feeling about the scene with Sowden. That was totally intentional. So, the questions for the day are: Does Sowden deserve Lister’s mercy? Should kindness be unconditional, or could you withdraw it as you learn undesirable information about the person you’re trying to help? (In other words, do you think Lister made an ethically correct choice when she decided that, despite Sowden’s past and the people he’s hurt, he indeed deserved her kindness?)
> 
> If you’re more comfortable commenting in a non-English language, please don’t hesitate to do so. I have Professor Google on my side ;)
> 
> I also appreciate incoherent reviews :)


	27. I have never seen it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian and Ann gang up on Lister. Fluff, and then Angst Time with Mrs. Lawton!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: So... There's a mention of death in this chapter, and what with the global pandemic, I fear that it might be triggering to some readers. Apologies in advance. :(

One day short of Christmas, they packed for the holiday and hopped on a train to Halifax. Even at the end of the year, the first class lounge had more empty seats than occupied ones.

Lister and Ann sat next to each other, with Argus laying under the seats, and across the table sat Marian and her big duffle bag. That was not the only luggage Marian had brought along. Another giant suitcase was in the overhead compartment. On whatever trip, regardless of the destination or the duration, she always packed as though she was going to live on a deserted island for a year. Going on vacation with her never ceased to mortify Lister. 

Lister took her tablet out, intending to spend the three-hour ride checking for the news and reading a book. Next to her, however, Ann let out a sigh for the umpteenth time of the day.

“What’s wrong?” Lister said.

Ann shrugged. “Just, worried about the delivery.” She had managed to finish the commissioned work and had it shipped to the client the day before.

“Right. It probably hasn’t even left the U.K.”

“I know. I just wish I could deliver it myself.”

“Across the pond?” Lister smiled. “You’ll have to get used to letting other people handle your work. This is only the first of many.”

Ann relaxed her shoulders as she nodded. “I know they are professionals, not like the ones that scratched my painting. I just— I need to be distracted.”

“Oh, I know!” Marian looked up from her phone. “I finally installed Tinder last night. You can help me swipe.”

And before Lister got to say a word, Ann was leaning over the table and looking at the phone with Marian. Preposterous. Lister grabbed her tablet to skim through The Wall Street Journal. Still, their voices entered her ear, throwing her concentration off every other second. Handsome this, peng that. It all sounded cryptic to Lister, and she was not remotely interested in being part of it. The markets seemed to be doing rather well. The journalists speculated that the Office of Attorney General of Texas would conclude the probe on Northwich by the end of the year. She cast a side glance at Ann, who was now swiping on behalf of Marian. 

Ann gasped, then. “Oh, is that a match? You two matched!”

“Ha ha. Got one,” Marian said with her evil smirk.

“What are you going to say? He seems very nice.”

“I’m going to wait for him to say something. I don’t have a high expectation anyhow.” Marian looked up. “Which reminds me— I talked to one guy last night. You know what he did? Send me a dick pic.” 

“Oh, no,” Ann said.

"Exactly. What’s up with that? My lack of interest in dating them doesn't give them the right to send me dick pics right after a hello."

Ann looked scandalised. Lister wished her sister would lower her voice so everyone in the carriage wouldn’t have to be forced to hear this story.

“Like, yes, I think this dick pic would be a wonderful, beautiful start of our friendship. We would look back in twenty years from now and get all wistful like we all do. Like, _ ‘Oh, do you remember that day you sent me a dick pic? I knew in that moment that you'd make a magnificent friend.’ _ Ugh. Actually, do you want to see?” Marian tapped on the screen of her phone before shoving it in Ann’s face.

“No!” Ann, with a sheepish grin on her lips, covered her eyes with both hands and leaned back in her seat.

Lister had had it. “Marian, if you could stop sexually harassing her?”

“It’s not the dick pic,” Marian said. “It's his face. Look at it. It’s a lovely face."

What part of a man in a Hawaiian shirt Marian found lovely, Lister couldn't comprehend.

“Plus,” Marian said, “his dick is so small it’ll disappoint you high-maintenance ladies.”

“Stop saying that word,” Lister said. “Must I remind you that you’re in public?”

“Pff, everybody knows what a dick is. Half of the world has them. It’s not like you’ve never seen one.”

Lister had to recoil at the statement. “I have never seen _ it_.”

“Not even in porn?” Marian looked more astounded than appropriate.

“I watch no such thing.”

“Really?” Ann said. She, too, wore a look of amazement.

That got Lister flabbergasted for a split second. “Yes. Wait, do you?”

With her cheeks flushing, Ann looked away and mumbled, “I’m not discussing this here.”

From across the table, Lister heard Marian’s snicker and the shutter sound of a camera at the same time, and turned to see her sister pointing her phone at them. And the next moment, Marian guffawed.

“Your face!” was all Marian could say while she wheezed, holding out her phone for the other two to see.

The camera had captured Lister in the precise moment of bafflement. With her brows furrowed, she gaped at Ann, who was averting her gaze in a meek air. 

Marian withdrew her phone, looked at the photo, and threw her head back in laughter yet again. “Why does this look like a Renaissance painting?!” 

“Hilarious,” Lister said, entirely unimpressed.

Ann began to giggle with her, much to Lister’s annoyance. “Send it to me, Marian.”

“Already on it.”

Ann’s phone chimed. She opened the file, and it seemed to send her into another fit of giggles. “Excuse me, I have to go to the loo.” She wiped her tears away. 

As she had a window seat, Lister had to stand up and give way. Even after Ann had gone away, leaving the other two alone, Marian’s whole body kept vibrating with stifled laughter.

“It’s not even that funny,” Lister said.

“Party pooper.”

“And you have the sense of humour of a six-year-old.” 

It was when Lister’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She saw a message from Ann, opened it, and found herself staring at the infernal photo. The appeal of it still escaped her. Although, if it could make Ann laugh and made her want to share it with Lister, just like the earlier days, perhaps a tiny wound to her pride was a small price to pay.

But, as she saved it to the device, the realisation that it was the only photo on her phone sat heavy in her stomach. 

“What’s the matter?” Marian said.

“I deleted all of her photos after…” Lister made a vague gesture with a hand. “I was trying to forget about her.”

“All of them?”

Lister gave a heavy nod. “All gone.”

“Wow,” Marian said, “You really _ were _ heartbroken.”

It was true. Lister would have denied it before, but she couldn’t now. More than anything, a sense of guilt gnawed away at the inside. 

“Are they still not in the bin folder?” Marian said. “Photos usually stay there for thirty days or so even after being deleted?”

“I emptied it, too.”

“What about the cloud?”

The cloud. 

That was an idea. Indeed, all of the photos turned out to be safe and sound in the online storage. Every single one of them. Lister had forgotten about the existence of the service. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said under her breath, close to tears of relief. She restored some important photos to the device.

“You know I support you,” Marian said, “but you still make me think you’re too good for her sometimes.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I also found a nice journal app for beginners last night. It gives you basic advice how to keep a—”

“I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I do not. I’m not in any shape or form a beginner.”

“You might as well be one if you’ve been doing it wrong for years.”

“There’s no wrong way of doing it,” Lister said. “If there was, they would’ve established a law regarding it.”

“Bollocks.” 

The carriage door at the end of the aisle opened, and Ann came walking down. The train jolted from side to side. Lister stood up and extended her hand to help Ann settle back into her seat. 

…

Ann continued to hold Lister’s hand even after there was no need for support. The train continued to rock about side to side. The trio had fallen into silence, busying themselves with their respective diversion methods. Marian was working on the lesbian grief scarf or whatever nonsensical name it was. Lister had finished reading the news and checking her emails, and was starting a new book she had purchased a few years ago. And Ann was watching the zooming-past scenery of an open field by the railroad that stretched out as far as they could see, while absentmindedly playing with Lister’s fingers every now and then.

It had escaped the attention of Lister when Ann had started doing it. But when she became aware of it at last, the familiarity of it overwhelmed her. Now, Ann’s soft touch was all Lister’s mind could process. The words in the book turned into indecipherable symbols. She wasn’t even sure whether she was reading the same sentence over and over again.

She put the tablet down and looked at their connected hands. Then, her eyes met Ann’s.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ann said, “about what you said about doing volunteer work. Have you come up with anything since then?”

Lister shook her head. “Not anything concrete.” 

“Have you considered— Maybe you could do what you did for the old man you helped. Mr. Sowden?”

Lister could only shrug her shoulders. She had already let his name slide into oblivion.

“You could help the homeless people,” Ann said, “or those who are at the risk of being ones.” 

“Hey, it sounds like an marvellous idea,” Marian said. “You have the in-depth knowledge of the real estate industry as an insider as well as connections.”

Ann beamed at her. “Anne Lister’s non profit organisation. You could build shelters, counsel people for free, hmm, and even help make legislation or improve it.”

“Whoa, I was…” Lister breathed out an awkward laugh. “You’re way ahead of me there. I was just thinking I might help an already existing organisation. Aren’t there already enough homeless shelters anyhow?”

Marian narrowed her eyes at her. 

Lister put up a hand in the air. “I’ll educate myself on that issue. Still, I don’t know how to establish an NPO.”

“Don’t you have friends that do, though?” Marian said.

“Well, I do,” Lister said. “But—”

“There you go,” Marian said. “Everything sorted.”

“You clearly don’t understand how things work.”

“Isn’t it like establishing and operating a company? Without the making profit part, of course.”

“Precisely. And that’s why those two things are fundamentally different.”

“So,” Ann said, “is that a no?”

The crestfallen colour in Ann’s eyes faltered her determination more than she cared to admit. “I mean, I have no reason not to.” Lister snuck a furtive glance at her sister and caught her in the middle of an epic eye-roll.

Thankfully, Ann’s smile returned. She squeezed Lister’s hand with both of hers. “I can help you. I can design the logo and— Oh, I have a friend who is a freelance web designer. What else… I can do anything basic, like working at the shelter.”

“No. That, no,” Lister said. “I appreciate the offer, but you must focus on getting better. Put yourself first.”

“But, Dr. Day says I should go out and interact with more people. Find purpose in my life, apart from”—she looked down—“well, you. Marian says so, too. Tell her, Marian.” 

Marian locked eyes with Lister, and gave a shrug. "Helping others can be a type of self-care."

“Fine." Lister let out a sigh of concession before turning to Ann. "You can— If I truly decide to go ahead with this idea, you can design the logo and commission your friend to design the website.”

Ann's face lit up.

“But none of the helping around the shelter.”

Ann's smile fell. "Why?”

“Because it's an emotionally draining job, and I'm worried that even if you begin to need a break, you won't tell me so.”

“I will. I promise—”

With a kind but resolute air, Lister crossed her arms across her chest, turning her head away. “No. Otherwise, you can forget about this whole new NPO idea. This is my final answer.”

In the corner of her eye, Lister saw the other two exchange a look. 

Ann leaned closer, laced her fingers through Lister’s and made her uncross her arms, and batted her eyelashes. “Anne...” 

It did not work. Lister was determined not to let it affect her. It was just Ann with her pleading eyes, and her pout, and her fingers stroking the inside of her wrist under the table, and her own name dripping from her mouth like prayers that would’ve made her curl her toe up in a different situation.

“No,” Lister said. “I said what I said.” She looked away, only to be met with Marian staring at her through a judgmental eye in silence. “Stop looking at me like that, both of you. I have already made up my mind.”

But they were relentless. Ann was now stepping up her game by adding the tilt of her head to the pout, biting her lip. Lister felt her resolve crumble.

“Fine. Alright,” she said. “Good Lord. I get it. Yes, Ann, you may work at the shelter, your mental health permitting.” 

Her eyes sparkling, Ann drew closer to hug her. “Thank you.” She gave Marian a high five over the table.

“You two look very pleased with yourselves.” 

“Oh, we are,” Marian said.

Ann laughed. “We are.”

What a mistake it had been to let these two spend time together without her supervision. She had sown the wind, and was now reaping the whirlwind. 

Her phone buzzed on the table, then. The screen lit up with an incoming call from Mariana, and it was when Lister noticed there had been several texts from her already. She glanced at Ann and found her puzzled look.

Lister picked up her phone. “I have to take this. Excuse me.” She stood up, wobbled down the aisle, and got out into the deserted corridor connection. She answered the call. “Mariana.”

“Freddie. Are you busy now?” Her voice sounded fragile, almost drowned out by the loud ambient noises on the train.

“What’s wrong?”

“I could call back if you're busy.”

“No. What is it, Mary?”

Mariana sighed into the phone. “I just… wanted to let you know that we pulled the plug.”

After a pause, it dawned on Lister what it meant. Charles. “I’m sorry, Mariana. He was a good man.” She knew what bollocks it was. “What can I do for you? Where are you now?”

“Back at home.”

“Is someone with you?”

Marian let out a laugh. It sounded so hollow. “My stepchildren. But they don’t count, do they? So, no one.”

Lister needed a few seconds to collect her thoughts. There came a train announcement, informing that the train would stop at the next station shortly. “I’ll be there in an hour,” she said and hung up the phone.

Back in the carriage, Ann and Marian asked for an explanation with their eyes. 

“It’s… Mariana.”

While her sister scrunched up her nose, Ann’s face betrayed no emotion. 

Lister sat down. “She called to tell me that— Well, they had Charles in the hospital— Charles is her husband, by the way. And he had been kept on life-support—”

“Gee, calm down,” Marian said.

Lister took a breath before speaking to Ann again. “Now, she told me that she and her family—his children, I mean—had pulled the plug. I told her I’d be there. I have to get off at the next station.”

“Oh, splendid.” Marian mumbled something more. 

Even then, Ann remained quiet and unruffled on the surface. “You're doing the right thing. She needs you.”

Again, Lister felt herself waver in purpose at Ann’s accepting way. “I hate this. I really do.”

“I know. I do, too,” Ann said. “But she needs you more than I need you now.”

“I promise I’d meet you in Halifax by the end of the day. And if something more urgent comes up, I will text you.”

Ann gave a nod, and held up a pinky between their faces. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Lister laced their pinkies together.

In a few minutes, the train squealed to a stop at a station. Lister stepped off onto the platform, leaving her luggage on the train except her wallet and keys.

…

Once her train arrived back in London, Lister travelled the short distance to her house by taxi and from there, drove her Bugatti out of the city.

When Mariana had contacted her, Lister immediately knew something was wrong. They had not spoken since the big fight. It wouldn’t have surprised her if the silence had continued longer. 

She drove slightly over the speed limits. She could go twice as fast, and it still wouldn’t be fast enough. The anxiety was getting the best of her the way she’d never imagined it would, the way she still couldn’t explain. It was bloody Charles, for God’s sake. His death was bound to happen, both Lister and Mariana knew it. There shouldn’t be any anxiety at all. And yet, there she was, pressing on the accelerator on the motorway to Mariana’s house. 

It took an hour and fifteen minutes. She finally brake to a halt in her driveway, where two cars besides Mariana’s were parked. She leapt out of the car and hastened to the door. The oldest one of her stepchildren came out of the house at the same time. 

“Hello, Charlie.”

He looked up from his phone and sneered. “Of course, you’d be here.” He kept walking to his car, the edge of his tailored suit jacket flapping in the wind. 

Lister paid no heed to it and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. She entered. “Mariana?” Her voice reverberated through the empty house. 

She heard a noise—the rustling of clothes and the clicking sound of high heels—from the nearby drawing room. She made her way there and, in the doorway, almost bumped into another person. It was Mariana’s stepdaughter, clad in dark.

“Victoria.” 

“Oh, it’s you. I didn’t recognise your voice.” With smudged makeup, she flung herself into Lister’s arms.

Mariana had said once that Victoria was probably the only one truly under the weight of grief.

“Victoria, I’m sorry for your loss. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. But, I’ll be fine.” Victoria pulled herself out of the embrace and took a deep breath, wiping away her tears. “Anyway, she’s upstairs. I’m going home.”

“Do you have anyone with you? Is your fiance in the country?”

Victoria shook her head. “We broke up last month. He couldn’t watch me go through my depressive episodes anymore. Really absurd. He used to say he’d walk through hell with me, but even before the gate to hell opened, he ran away. Can you believe that? I’m so glad we didn’t get married.” 

Lister couldn’t find words. “I'm so sorry, Victoria.”

They said goodbye after another tight embrace. Lister watched the door close behind Victoria, heard the silence return to the house, and ascended the flight of stairs. Out the window in the middle of the staircase, she saw Victoria’s Lexus roll away, its shadow receding into the distance. And it dawned on her, in that moment, where her anxiety came from— 

She felt scared this might be another devastating case of grief like Ann’s. It was unlikely. Mariana did not love his husband like Ann loved her sister. But the little voice in her head whispered. She might screw this up. Even now, in spite of the lessons she’d learned, she still had no idea how to comfort someone in a time like this. 

She arrived at the door of the master bedroom. There, she heard a sound she hadn’t expected. Laughter. She knocked twice. No answer.

“Mariana? It’s me. I’m coming in.” She turned the knob.

Mariana was sitting on the bed, in her bathrobe and with a glass of wine in her hands. Her black dress lay on the floor, left in a heap. She regarded Lister with mild astonishment. Some comedy show was on the tele. The source of the laughter. 

“I didn’t think you’d really come,” Mariana said in a weary tone of her voice.

“If you thought a disagreement like that could keep me away, you are clearly wrong.” Lister took strides to the bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. 

“No. You are usually in Halifax around this time of year.”

“Oh. Hmm. How are you feeling?”

A forced smile graced her features. “I'm not crying, if that's what you were hoping to see.” 

“Of course, not,” Lister said. “I've come to support you.”

“What makes you think I need it? This day would come sooner or later. We simply agreed that we didn’t want to carry this issue over to the next year.” Mariana emptied the glass of wine in a couple of gulps and poured herself another. But the bottle only had a few drops left. 

“Well, sometimes knowing something will hurt doesn’t stop it from actually hurting.”

“I never loved him,” Mariana said, “if you still have a suspicion. I liked what the marriage gave me, but I never cared about him. God, I’m so glad to be a widow at last.”

The audience on the comedy show bellowed with laughter. 

“Okay,” Lister said. “I wasn’t making any accusations, alright? I just wanted to know if you were fine.”

Mariana chugged the wine, throwing her head back. There came more laughter from the tele. She stared at the screen, but not a hint of mirth was in her eyes.

Lister found herself at a loss for what to do. Had Mariana shed tears like Ann, or expressed her emotions without filters, she would’ve known to envelop her in a hug. But nothing was straightforward with Mariana.

With a sigh, Lister hoisted herself onto the bed, sitting next to her against the headboard. 

“Take your bloody shoes off,” Mariana said.

“Oh.” Lister did as told, and put her feet back on the mattress. “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Why?”

“To get you some fresh air.”

Mariana laughed through her nose, but seemed to have second thought. “You know what? That’s a good idea.” She put her wine glass down on the nightstand with a light clink and, to Lister’s shock, straddled her lap. “You are right. I would like a ride.”

“No, no, Mariana. Not that. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Come on.” Mariana began to slowly grind her hips down. “It’s been a while since. I miss feeling you inside me,” she whispered as she nibbled her earlobe.

A jolt of arousal coursed through Lister despite her effort not to feel it. “Mariana, stop. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Her lips descended to the base of her throat.

“No.” Lister took firm hold of her shoulders and created a gap between their bodies. “I don’t want it. I promised Ann that I would never break her heart again.”

Mariana raised her brows. “Miss Walker?”

“Yes.”

“Are you two back together? Has she forgiven you that quickly?”

“Not technically. No. But she’s… She knows I’m with you. We were on the train to Halifax when you called me. Please, get off of me.” 

But Mariana remained still. “You always go home alone.”

“Well, you were always somewhere else travelling with Charles.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t take me to Halifax.” Mariana’s voice began to have its usual thorns. 

And Lister felt herself growing fed up. “May I remind you that it was you that said you didn’t want to see my family ever again?”

“Because of how I was treated,” Mariana said with a bitter curl of her lips. “Your father implied that I was a whore. Don’t you remember that?”

“I do, but— Look, I don’t want to fight.” 

“Oh, ever a pacifist, aren’t you?”

“You’re drunk, Mariana. I only came because I thought you needed my support.”

“Where did this supportiveness come from, hmm? Why are you acting like a saint all of a sudden?” Mariana brushed Lister’s hair from her face. “Miss Walker has defanged you.” 

Lister grasped her wrist. “_Miss Walker _ made me recognise my faults. It’s because of her that I’m here.” 

“Oh, I see. So, I’m some kind of your personal project now. Like Miss Walker was back in summer. Maybe like the Step 9 of the A.A. programme?”

It hit too close to home. Lister struggled to keep her veneer of patience. “It was a mistake to come here after all, then. I should’ve just hung up on you and stayed on that train with Ann.” She pushed Mariana off her lap and stood up from the bed, bending forward to put on her shoes. “I’m leaving. Have fun watching”—she waved at the show on the tele—“whatever this is.” 

Walking out, she closed the door loudly and stomped down the carpeted stairs, out of the house, and across the driveway. She climbed into the driver’s seat. And only then did she finally release the guttural groan she’d been holding. Why did their interaction always have to end in the flame of their ugliness? This was not how it was suppose to go. 

She tightened her grip on the wheel. The coldness of the metal cleared her head somewhat. And the air outside was fresher than that in the stuffy bedroom, helping her calm down and think.

What would Marian say? It was inevitable that they would ask Lister about this visit once they met in Halifax. Marian would… probably say 'sod Mary.' This was not a good question to ask. What would _ Ann _do, then?

One things was clear. Lister couldn’t leave like this. 

She trod back into the house and up the stairs. It sounded like the tele was still on, the ghostly laughter spilling over into the hallway. She pushed the door open, and in the same place on the bed, Mariana was curled up in a ball.

The creak of the door made her raise her face. Her eyes were filled with tears. “What? Did you forget something?” she said as she tried to regulate her breathing. 

It hadn’t crossed her mind that Mariana might be crying. Lister slowly made her way to the bed and looked down at her. “I’m sorry.”

More tears gathered in Mariana’s eyes. Lister reached out. With a hand behind the back of Mariana’s head, she gently guided her until her forehead rested against her own stomach. Mariana wrapped her arms around her waist and clutched the back of Lister’s shirt. 

They used to comfort each other like this in their youth, it reminded her. 

“I love you,” Mariana said. “I love you, Anne.”

“I love you, too.”

Mariana looked up. She had a weak smile on her lips. “But, not like that… right?”

Lister felt her core tremble with emotion. “No, I’m in love with Ann.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But that doesn't mean that I would leave you.”

“I wish you would,” Mariana said. “If I can’t have you…” She had let go of her, now staring into space, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I used to believe this was what I deserved,” Lister said, waving a hand between them, “what _ we _ deserved. Lies, spite, and more lies.” With gentle fingers under her chin, Lister made her look up. “But we don’t. We have to put an end to this. We owe it to the last twenty years of our lives. We owe it to our younger selves.”

Mariana closed her eyes. “Remember that night when we talked in the bathroom at the gala? You told me about her, with this stupid smile on your face. And you told me about Northwich. You’d never talked to me about work before. Something had changed, I knew then. Deeper than sex or attraction. You looked… happy.” A quiet sigh fell from her lips, like the ghost of the past finally leaving. “That made me scared.” 

Words escaped Lister. “I had no idea.” 

“But you might come back to me one day. You always do.”

“Maybe,” Lister said, trying to sound as tender as possible. “I hope I won’t.”

Silence fell on them. The comedy had ended at one point, the screen now showing a selection of other shows. Lister sat down on the edge of the mattress. 

“You’ve gotten tired of waiting for me,” Mariana said, hanging her head. “That’s what I thought at first. But no. It’s not that…”

“No, it's not.”

“What’s so special about her? She is just a girl.”

Lister had asked herself the same question many times before. But the truth still eluded her.

“I don’t know, Mary. She is just a girl. But a girl who makes me happy. And I know this is love because—” She cupped Mariana’s cheek and felt tears prick her own eyes. “Because I had it with you a long time ago.”

Mariana’s hand joined Lister’s on her cheek. She squeezed it, brought it to her lips, and pressed a quivering kiss to her knuckles. And hung her head. “So, it's really the end, huh?”

“It’s not. I’ll still be with you,” Lister said. “Mary, you used to be my whole world. It's changed. But you still occupy a large portion of it. Maybe it's not enough for you now. I just hope it will, one day.”

“I'm scared.”

“I'll hold you.”

Lister wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her in, feeling Mariana’s tiny frame tremble like a child’s. They held each other in silence. Without getting sexual. Probably for the first time in the twenty years of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Anne Lister!
> 
> Also, I wrote a one-shot for April Fool’s Day. Check it out if you haven't yet? ;)


	28. You’re human chloroform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday with the Listers. Lister confronts her old demon, but she has Ann now.

Her radio station just started the eight o’clock news when her Bugatti finally stopped in the vicinity of her father’s house in Halifax. She turned the headlights off. Darkness embraced everything around her, even her own hands. The lights at the front door of the house flickered like a lone star somewhat far away from the car. There remained a short distance to walk. Lister got out of the car and walked in the dark, feeling pebbles fly about under her feet. 

A shadow emerged out of the dark.

“Shit!” Lister flinched.

“I’m sorry.” It was Ann. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Argus was with her. His excited panting echoed loudly in the dark. They met each other halfway with an embrace. 

“It’s alright,” Lister said. She pressed her cheek against Ann’s. “You’re cold. How long have you been waiting outside?”

“Hmm.” Ann only buried her face deeper in Lister’s neck. “How’s she?”

The message behind the question was unmistakable. Ann was worried something might have happened at Lawton’s residence. 

Lister took Ann’s hand and led her back towards the house. “Stressed out. They will have a funeral before the year ends, but it’s going to be a private one with the family and close relatives only. I was not invited. Naturally. But she’ll be okay. What did you do today?”

They entered the house. Lister locked the door and looked into the face of Ann, who fixed the lock with a blank stare.

“Ann?”

She blinked, jerked back to earth. “Hmm?”

“What did you do today?” 

“Oh—” Ann shrugged as she began to plod down the hallway. “Did you have dinner yet? Marian and I made veggie burgers.” 

Ann’s internal tumult rang loud. Despite her misgivings, however, she followed Ann into the kitchen and watched her assemble a burger. The whole house was enveloped in the eerie stillness unique to the countryside. 

“Where’s everybody else?”

Ann put the plate before Lister and sat on the other side of the table. “Your father and aunt went to bed. Marian is in her room, too.”

“And what were you doing before I arrived?”

“Nothing much. Watching the stars and, things.” 

There, in the light of the kitchen, Lister noticed Ann's bloodshot eyes and the wet shine on her eyelashes. The rich smell of the burger made her stomach growl. But she moved it to the side so that she could extend her arm over the table, offering her hand to Ann. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You have questions. Ask me.”

Ann seemed at a total loss for words, biting her lip for several seconds. At last, she took Lister’s hand. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Did you kiss her?”

“No.”

“Then— What were you doing with her that got her perfume on you?”

So, there it was. Lister didn't even think of the possibility. 

“I was holding her, but that was all,” Lister said. “We went for a drive after that. She needed to get out of that dreary old house. Nothing else happened. We… broke things off. It’s hard to define our relationship, and like I said to you before, nothing ever happened when I was with you. But…”

“She’s important to you.” 

Lister nodded. “Both of us needed some sense of closure, for a long time.”

“But you’ll still see her, right?” 

“Yes,” Lister said, looking straight at her. “Yes.”

Ann raised her face. She looked into Lister’s eye, searching. And as Lister encouraged her to ask more with a slight lift of an eyebrow, Ann only shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. 

“Ann.” Lister waited for her to meet her eyes again. “I’m glad you asked me, okay?”

Ann’s smile widened ever so slightly. 

While Lister finished her burger—she made damn sure to enjoy every bite—Ann talked about her day. Her aunt and father had welcomed her with open arms, giving her a tour around the house. Marian had been almost euphoric to have her cheese maker at hand. They strolled around the farm, then, getting fresh milk from a neighbour. Ann had gotten to pet cows. She, a city girl, had never done it and seemed proud in the photos she'd taken with the animals. 

“We looked at the old pictures of you, too,” Ann said. “You were so cute with chubby cheeks.”

Lister had thought she'd burned them all. 

After cleaning up the dish, Lister led her to the living room, where they didn’t have to suffer from drafts like in the kitchen. The Christmas tree stood in the corner. Its fake evergreen leaves fluttered in the wind from the heating vent directly under it.

On the sofa they sat, holding hands, sharing a blanket together. The warmth and intimacy soon made Lister drowsy. It had been an intense day. She produced a yawn, and Ann mirrored it.

Inexplicable joy washed over her. “Should we call it a day? You must be tired, too, keeping my shabby family entertained all on your own.”

“I’m okay.” Ann offered a dopey smile, but furrowed her brows a moment later. “But if you want to go to bed?”

Lister declined the offer and continued to listen to Ann. With her head on the back of the sofa, she stifled a yawn and closed her eyes. Ann's lullaby-like voice grew distant in her ear. 

She jerked awake, sat up, and felt Ann gently pull her arm.

“Let’s go to bed,” Ann said. “We have tomorrow.”

As Lister had no energy left to protest, she stood from the sofa and walked up the creaking wooden stairs with Ann. Upstairs, the walls were shaking with the booming snore of her father. There was something outside, too. Perhaps an owl in the tree. A stream of light peeked through the gap under Marian’s door. They tiptoed by the room, although the tittup of Lister’s shoes echoed loudly enough to irritate her for sure. They stopped in front of Lister’s old bedroom, then. 

“I hope you’ll be able to sleep in this shabby place,” Lister whispered. 

Ann nodded. But she didn’t let go of Lister’s hand, nor did she show a sign of heading to the guest room. It was too dark to read her face. 

“Listen,” Lister said, “I don’t wish to give you the wrong idea by talking about her any more than necessary, but thank you for letting me go to her today. We both needed that.”

No response. But Ann let go of her hand and, with ardour that took Lister’s breath away, threw her arms around her neck. She kissed her cheek once, and twice. “Can I have you all to myself tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Ann kissed her again, just below her ear.

…

The spirit of sleep—or whatever entity in charge of it—completely forsook Lister after that. As though it had been waiting to cast a sleeping spell back in the drawing room, but after a time it had gotten tired of Lister's unwillingness and now didn't feel like helping her. Sleep. Such a capricious spirit. 

Next morning, Lister woke up at the usual time and went for a run with Argus. The sun was beginning to illuminate the sky on the horizon. She could see her breath. 

She stayed on top the hill, letting Argus run around without his lead, until the golden sun rose above the mountain ridge. The world below grew brighter and clearer by the second, revealing a new aspect of the place every time she blinked. Flocks of birds began to chirp and twitter all around her. The sunlight hit the roof of the house. A sight she didn't get to see in the city. 

Not a single person had gotten up on her return to the house. She fed Argus, showered, and rummaged around in the kitchen in search of their coffee maker. 

“What are you doing slamming cabinet doors?” Marian came in, still in her pajamas. 

“Where do you keep the coffee maker?”

“Erm, we gave it away.”

“Why? You know I use it.”

“When you come home, which is only once a year.” Marian put the kettle on. “I needed space for my cheese maker.”

“You don’t start a day by eating cheese.”

“Speak for yourself. What’s the big deal anyway? It was ancient. You have the money to buy the latest model on the market.”

“Well, yes. Had I known I had to, I would have.”

Marian shook her head. “I just woke up. I can’t deal with you now.”

“Good morning,” a voice came from the doorway.

Lister and Marian turned their heads and saw Ann, already dressed and with her hair brushed to perfection. They greeted her in chorus.

Ann walked up to them and took Lister’s hand. “What are you quarrelling about this morning?”

“Nothing,” Lister said, waving a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. But the birds were so loud they woke me up.” Ann laughed. “Did you? Sleep well?”

“Hmm. I had trouble falling asleep. So, I wrote in my… journal.” 

Ann looked down with a tight smile. The journal was still a sore subject for both of them. 

“I heard you moving about in your room past midnight,” Marian said as she made two cups of tea. 

“So were you,” Lister said. “I considered going to you.” 

Marian lit up. “Oh?”

“Talking to you usually puts me to sleep right away. You’re human chloroform.”

Ann let out an almost inaudible snicker as she took one of the cups. Lister took the other and, with her hand on Ann’s lower back, went to the dining room together. 

“That tea was for me!” Marian said.

Lister ignored it. She just felt relieved that the conversation had ended where it did. No way she was telling anyone what she had done after writing the journal entry last night. 

They sat next to each other at the table. Lister, regarding Ann from over the rim of her cup, felt her cheeks grow warm. Ann’s voice from last night tickled the back of her neck.

_ Can I have you all to myself tomorrow? _

Heat gathered in her lower abdomen. She thought she had taken care of that last night.

Shortly after, they heard the ceiling creak, followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Marian stood and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for them. Two pairs of footsteps slowly came down the stairs. 

Lister put down her tablet, stood up, met with Aunt at the foot of the stairs, and offered her an arm. 

“Oh, Anne!” Aunt said, taking her arm. “Such a delight you're here at last.”

Her father scoffed behind them. “I thought you’d finally abandoned us and gone off to Paris.”

“Yes, I’m happy to see you, too,” Lister said to him before turning to Aunt. “I had a pressing matter to attend to.”

“Mrs. Lawton. We know.” 

“It might as well have been Paris,” her father said.

Everybody knew about Mariana, then. Excellent. Lister glared at Marian, who served them toast and eggs. They telepathically communicated with one another, but soon came to the mutual conclusion that the other person was being ridiculous. Lister helped Aunt get seated. 

Ann greeted them both. 

“Good morning, dear,” Aunt said, and turned to look at up Lister. “Oh, Anne. Your girlfriend is such a bright girl. We enjoyed her company yesterday.”

Lister exchanged a look with Ann. “Well, she’s not really my girlfriend…” 

“You never told us you got married?” Her father said with eggs in his mouth.

“They are not in a relationship,” Marian said. “I told you this yesterday.” She looked at Lister. “I told them yesterday.”

Lister sat down with a sigh. The peaceful life back in the city called to her. 

“What are your plans for the day?” Aunt said. “We could go through the old albums if you’d like, Ann. There are still more we didn’t show you yesterday.”

“That won’t be necessary, Aunt,” Lister said. “She has seen enough.”

…

After breakfast, Lister made them all move to the drawing room. And following their holiday tradition, she gave each of them a gift that she’d had delivered to the house a couple of days prior. A plastic model ship for her father. (Lister didn't know whether the model was rare or what type of ship it was. All it needed was to be expensive.) Poetry books for Aunt. An envelope for Marian. 

“Oh, what is it?” Marian shook it next to her ear, unsealed it, and pulled out the content. She let out a joyful gasp. “Cash!”

“I didn’t know what to get you. Get yourself whatever you want.”

“This is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever given me.”

“I know.”

Marian peered into the empty envelope. “I don't see the thank-you note, though.”

“Buy yourself one, then.”

“I think deserve it…” Marian slipped the envelope in her pocket and looked to the Christmas tree. “Don’t you have anything for Annie?”

Lister locked eyes with Ann, who was observing the scene in meek silence. Her heart skipped a beat. She went to her and offered a hand. “Do you want to come with me?”

Ann stood up, and hand in hand, they walked down the hallways. Lister quickly went back to her room to fetch a bath towel. They got themselves bundled up at the door. Although Argus whined and begged to come with them, Lister ordered him to stay in.

Outside, Lister led her across the vast expanse of her family land, with the dewy grass damping the hem of her trousers. Within minutes, a boating lake came into sight. The wind rippled the water as it reflected the grayness of the sky. There lay a single boat, placed upside-down, with a sheet of moss growing. Lister spread the bath towel over it and sat there with Ann. The surface still felt cold, and they both shivered together.

Lister didn’t know how to begin.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Ann said.

“Hmm.”

“I think I’ve seen this place in the old photos yesterday. You and Marian and your mother, swimming.”

A breathy chuckle fell from her lips. “So, you’ve seen my mother.”

“She was beautiful.”

“She was alcoholic,” Lister said. “I hated her.”

Ann fell quiet. 

Lister continued to look at the water. “She died here, got drunk and drowned. I was fifteen. My father found her body one morning. Nobody knows why she came out here. But… I had snuck out of the house the previous night to see my then-girlfriend. Maybe she saw my bedroom empty and went to look for me. I was often found here with my girlfriend.”

The wind chilled the tears in her eyes.

She continued, “I hate this place, but I come here once a year. For her anniversary. Her real grave is in the cemetery. I’ve never visited that place. Only here, just to remind myself what a bitch she was.” She looked at Ann with a smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that it was the day I met you? In the gallery?”

“Really?”

Lister nodded. “I was on my way home. Got sick… Funny how that works.”

“Yeah.”

“I hated her,” Lister said again, glaring at the water. “I would probably hate her if she was alive today. Everything I did was wrong. She despised my tomboy phase, and my ‘lesbian phase.’”

Ann’s hand found hers in the coat pocket. Lister wanted to burst into tears and scream. She swallowed back all of it. 

“For a long time, I thought I shouldn’t miss her. It was shameful to miss her. And I was okay with being a heartless monster—”

“You’re not a heartless monster.”

Lister gave a smile. “No, I’m not. Because I miss her. I hate her, and I miss her. I can’t control it.” 

The tears were now streaming down her cheeks as the wind blew into her face. She felt hot on the inside and cold on the surface. Her heart ached when she didn’t want it to. And even though part of her regretted ever speaking of this pain, Ann’s arms around her shoulders made her believe otherwise.

“Dr. Day once told me that,” Ann said, “the first step of healing is to acknowledge and accept your feelings. Not to be the slave of your heart. Not to turn a blind eye. But to face them, because if you never treat a broken bone, it never heals properly.”

Lister wanted to kiss her. She really did. But she resisted the urge, and instead sat up, taking a deep breath. “This is still hard. I’m learning, though.”

“I know. And I’m proud of you,” Ann said, but dropped her gaze. “Marian has mentioned her once, but she never told me in detail.”

“She doesn’t remember much.”

“Hmm. I’m still learning, too, and unlearning stuff. I shut you out when Elizabeth died, believing so stubbornly that nobody would understand my pain.” 

"Yeah." Lister stuck her hands in her pockets and, feeling the object in there, decided the time had come. She pulled it out. The red velvet ring box looked even more decrepit than it had in the dimness of her bedroom. “I stayed up late last night, looking for this. It’s Mother’s.”

Ann carefully took it from her hands, her gaze travelling between Lister and the box. She opened it. Her lips parted at the sight of the simple diamond ring. 

“I can’t remember how many times I’ve considered throwing this into the water,” Lister said. “I want you to have it.”

“What?”

“It’s not— It’s not a proposal. I understand that I’m in no position to do that. But I gave enough thought to it. This feels right to me. It belongs to you. Even if you decide to never have me back as your lover, I hope you’d keep me in your life, one way or another. So, that’s the… the ring.”

Ann regarded it with tight lips. It wouldn’t have surprised Lister if she had closed the box. But she picked the ring from the slit in the yellowed cushion, letting the gem twinkle, and put it on her right fourth finger herself. 

They stayed on the upside-down boat for a while. 

As they walked back to the house, Ann took her hand. Lister felt the ring against her fingers. 

…

It was only a matter of time before her family took notice of the ring. That happened rather quickly. Lister had not expected such speedy responses from the troop of one piglet and two nearly blind people. 

The first was Marian, during Christmas dinner that night. Right in the middle of bringing a piece of ham to her mouth. The ham stopped in midair without warning, and Lister saw her eyes were fixed on the ring across the table. The ham dangled from the fork, and the next moment, it fell into the puddle of gravy on her plate like a cannonball. Marian yelped. The gravy apparently got in her eye. With the wounded eye closed, she cast a gobsmacked look at Lister. But no word came out of her mouth. 

Lister had never seen her sister tongue-tied.

After dinner, they watched holiday films in the living room. Marian would stop knitting every now and then just to point at Scrooge and say things like, “Look, it’s you.” Her father, Lister thought, was snoring in the armchair. But towards the end of the film, he spoke,

“Ah, now I get it.”

“What?” Marian said.

He raised his shaking hand to gesture at Ann. “You’re engaged. You said she wasn’t your girlfriend or wife because she’s your fiancee.”

“We are not engaged,” Lister said, and saw Ann shake her head in agreement.

“Who are you engaged to, then, Ann?” Aunt said. 

“No one,” Ann said, fiddling with the ring. “I’m not— This is not symbolic. Not in that way, at least.”

“In what way is it symbolic?” Marian said.

Ann stammered.

“It’s Mother’s,” Lister said. “I gave it to her today as a token of faith and respect. We are not in a relationship.”

“That’s her wedding ring?” Her father leaned forward in his seat to take a closer look. 

“This is getting confusing,” Aunt mumbled.

“No, it isn’t,” Lister said. “Let me explain why.”

By the time Lister had managed to set the record straight—after numerous attempts to keep both of the elderly awake—the film had long been over, and it was way past their bedtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me reiterate/make 100% clear what you already know-- I do accept constructive criticism. 😌 None of your comments has ever made me want to stop writing this story. Quite the opposite, actually! You've been very helpful. Keep up the good work, team!! 👐


	29. You look like The Cat in the Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ann(e)s go to Edinburgh. Lister faces another fear of her; the little people.

The internal investigation of Northwich was concluded with only one week left until the next year. Approximately five months after the break of the scandal.

The fraudulent operation turned out to be more deep-rooted than initially feared. Almost one third of the Northwich employees from all branches across the U.S. had some levels of involvement in it. They would be fired or suspended, if not criminally prosecuted. Unwilling accomplices, willing collaborators, all of them. 

The refunds to the affected customers would cost Shibden Group an estimate of a million U.S. dollars. And the fines— They had yet to know. The criminal investigation was still undergoing. But taking into account the precedents of similar cases, journalists predicted that the fines would amount to a couple of million dollars. It would be a taxing undertaking for Washington. 

What a depressing morning. 

Marian cleared her throat to get her attention. “Could you not play games on your tablet at breakfast?”

“I’m reading the news.”

“Same thing. You’re a guest. That’s bad manners.”

“I’ll have you know that I was not just reading _ any _news. The story was about Shibden Group. Yes, the ship that I sank. So, thank you.”

Lister put the tablet away without an ounce of enthusiasm. Instead of useful information, she would have to watch her family eat like uncultured peanuts. Except, Ann had yet to come out of the guest room.

“Do you reckon we should check up on her?” Her father said, nibbling at his toast. 

“It’s fine,” Marian said, “She sleeps in sometimes.” She looked at Lister. “You’re going to Edinburgh today, right?”

“That’s the plan.” 

“What’s in Edinburgh?” Her father said.

“Annie has to go to her sister’s house to get her stuff.” Marian looked at Lister. “You might have to reschedule that. She often did this back in London. Not coming out of her bedroom. That’s how I know it’s going to be a rubbish day for her.”

Lister waited, allowing her to come out at her own pace. Still, the clock struck noon, and no word from Ann. The curtains of the guest room remained closed, Lister observed from the garden area outside. That got her concerned. 

She went to her door and knocked twice, but received no answer.

“Ann? May I come in?”

A muffled murmur came from the other side. Lister took this as her cue to enter.

The bed, however, was empty. Ann was curled up in a ball on the floor, hidden in the shadow of an old nightstand, her face red as she sobbed. 

Lister rushed to kneel in front of her. 

“I’m sorry,” Ann said. “I know it’s… I tried to… But every time, I couldn’t stop crying.” 

Marian was right. It was going to be one of those days.

“Is this about today?” Lister said. “Having to go to Edinburgh?” 

Ann gave a nod and heaved. “I took the pill, but I don’t think it’s working.”

“We can postpone it. I can call Captain Sutherland for you.”

Ann shook her head. “I need to do this. Today. If I don’t, I know I would waste more days like this. I just— Can you hold me?”

“Of course.” 

Lister made her body fit in the tiny space between the wall and Ann, and pulled her in, letting her rest her head on her shoulder. The old sense of helplessness returned to Lister. The fear, too. She hugged Ann more tightly, and felt the trembling of her body ripple through her own. 

It was half an hour later that Ann voluntarily stood up and began to get ready. Lister watched her move around the room, watched her as she got dressed and brushed her hair. Their eyes met in the mirror. 

“We’ll get through this,” Lister said, like a mantra.

Ann responded with a heavy nod. “I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. Get her stuff and get out of there. I don’t even want to talk to Captain Sutherland.”

But her bravado did not last long. Once they climbed into the family pickup truck, Ann began to sob again in the passenger seat.

The drive to Edinburgh felt familiar in a dreadful way, reminiscent of their trips to and back from Elizabeth’s memorial service. The meandering roads, Ann’s crying echoing between each bark of the old car engine. And worse, the nagging fear that they were actually headed to the funeral home by the sea. 

…

Sutherland’s house turned out to be not as ostentatious as Lister had expected. Although it had a gate and a lawn of fair size, the brick house looked otherwise humble. There was a tiny bike left in the middle of the lawn. He had kids. Three of them. The recollection hit Lister in tandem with a sense of unease. 

They rang the doorbell. The shrill voices of children echoed inside, followed by the deeper voice of Captain Sutherland ordering the children to go away. The door opened. Again, Liser felt slightly uncomfortable at the sight of him in his civilian clothes.

“Ann, you made it.” He gave a businesslike smile. “I was starting to think you had changed your mind.” He then turned his attention to Lister. “Oh— Miss Lister.”

“Good to see you again, Captain Sutherland.”

“Yes, of course.” In contrast to the indifference he showed to Ann, he seemed bewildered by Lister’s presence, searching for words. “Although, I wasn’t expecting to.”

Lister didn’t take that as a hard no. “Well, she needed someone to help, and I was available.”

“I see— Come in, then.” He opened the door more widely for both of them.

The interior the house didn’t quite match the exterior or Lister’s expectations, either. Things were colourful—tiny shoes on the rack, soft toys on the sofas, kids’ drawings on the fridge—and rather disorderly. Lister spotted child safety products on door handles and hard furniture and walls. Children were screeching in a different room. This was not an environment for her. 

Near the entrance door was the staircase. To her relief, Captain Sutherland led them straight upstairs. Ann followed him, with Lister behind her.

“How are you enjoying the holiday, Ann?” he said over his shoulder as they ascended. 

Ann didn’t say anything.

“She’s staying at my father’s house in Halifax.”

“In Halifax. I see,” he said in a carefree tone. “I have a regrettable confession to make, Miss Lister. I didn’t know who you were at the funeral. It was only after you’d left that my family and friends told me how famous you were.”

“We live in different worlds,” Lister said. “It’s quite understandable that you didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry to learn that you have gone through some ordeal since then.”

It was fortunate that he couldn’t see her stiff smile. “On the bright side, I now have all the time in the world to support my friend.”

They had arrived at the far end of the hallway. Captain Sutherland opened the door of a room. It seemed to be a guest room turned into a temporary storage room. The mattress on the bed frame had a sheet on it, but no blankets or pillows.

Captain Sutherland gestured at the cardboard boxes at the foot of the bed. “These are her things. There is some valuable stuff that I’d rather not touch until the probate process is terminated. But other than that, feel free to take what you want, and… I’ll take care of the rest.” He left the room, then, leaving the door wide open. 

The air became lighter, less tense, as his footsteps faded away. 

“Funeral,” Ann mumbled in a bitter tone. “It’s a memorial service.”

“Do you think he knows about us?”

“It makes no difference. If his homophobia keeps him away, it’s more than welcome.”

They began to look through the boxes. Clothes and other fashion items, photos of her parents and Ann, books, trophies and awards, and more. Things that had sentimental value. It got Lister wondering if Captain Sutherland was keeping anything as a memento at all. 

Lister said, “What do you suppose he means by taking care of the rest? Throw them away?”

Ann shrugged with a huff. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he did. I should just take everything and donate to shelters and libraries,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right.” Lister feared Ann could easily explode. “That reminds me— I’ve sent an email to my friend about establishment of an NPO. She’s on holiday, so she may not be quick to reply.”

“Oh.” Ann seemed too distracted to answer. 

“I think she’d be impressed that I’m even considering this.” Lister gave a smile. “You deserve full credit.”

A distant smile was Ann’s response. They had to get out of the place.

Lister gestured at the boxes. “Should we load all of them into the car, then?”

With a crease between her brows, Ann cast a pained glance at the boxes and nodded.

They both stood up, picked up boxes, and began putting them in the truck. There were more than a dozen of boxes, some of which were heavy. That, combined with the multiple trips up and down the stairs, gave their whole bodies quite a workout.

“You can wait in the car,” Lister said to Ann, slightly out of breath, going up the stairs. “There are only two light ones left, I think.”

Ann still followed her to the room. “It’s fine. I know you made more trips than I did. I can take one.”

Lister bent forward to lift the larger one of the remaining two boxes. In that moment, however, she felt a gaze on her the back her her neck. She turned around and saw a little boy—around eight, she supposed—with lopsided fringe, standing behind the door frame. He stared at her as all children seemed to like to do, blatantly curious and without much of a blink. 

Although Lister had some reservations about the small people, she mustered her courage. “Hello.”

He only kept staring up at her. But the moment his gaze shifted elsewhere, he lit up. He entered the room, pattering past Lister.

“Sackville!” Ann’s lips curled into a genuine smile as she put her box on the mattress and crouched down to hug the child. “Oh, you’ve grown so big. Look at your cute hair. Did your papa do it?”

The boy shook his head. “Granny did. She lives with us now.”

“Hmm. She did a good job.” Ann sat on the floor and made him sit on her lap. “Willy, why don’t you say hi to Anne?” She raised her face to smile at Lister. “She’s my dearest friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sackville.”

His big eyes looked at Lister. Instead of greeting her, he whispered in Ann’s ear, cupping his hands over his mouth. 

Ann listened and spoke to Lister, “He wants to know how old you are.”

“I’m forty-two,” she said to Sackville. 

He again whispered in Ann’s ear. 

“He says he’s four,” Ann said, and quickly ducked her head to listen to the boy. A moment later, she began to laugh. 

“What?” Lister said. “What did he say?”

“He says you look like The Cat in the Hat.”

Lister looked down at herself. For once, she understood the pop culture reference. But she was not a cat, nor did she have a red bow tie on. 

“It’s a compliment,” Ann said. “He likes Dr. Seuss.”

“Erm, thank you…” Lister said to him. 

Ann’s laughter faded out soon, and they both looked at Elizabeth’s son, who was peering into a box of her belongings.

“That’s Mummy’s dress,” he said. “Mummy is in Italy now. She’s busy.”

Ann’s face grew tense. “Who told you that?”

“Dad. He said that if I’m good, she will come back soon.”

Lister did not say anything. If this was how Captain Sutherland planned to handle the situation, it should not be any of her business. At the same time, it didn’t escape her that Ann didn’t have the same luxury of detachment. She watched, from where she stood a few metres away, as Ann’s face turned red, her lip trembling.

“Well, Willy,” Ann said, “she’s not in Italy.”

Lister looked to the hallway, looking out for Captain Sutherland.

“Where’s she?” Willy said.

“Somewhere far away.”

“Like China? Do I have to ride an airplane?”

“Even more far.” Ann made a vain attempt to blink tears back. “She will not come back. It’s not your fault. You’re a good boy, but she can’t come back even if she wants to.”

“But Dad promised. I miss Mummy.” He began to cry as well. 

Ann wiped his cheeks with her thumb. But as though she had absorbed his pain by doing so, more tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t seem to speak. With the snotty boy on her lap, she looked up at Lister, silently begging for support.

Despite her apprehension, Lister took steps forward and knelt down before them. “Um, Willy. May I call you Willy? Okay…” 

Her mind remained blank. If this was the choice Ann made, Lister wanted to respect and support that. But the wish alone could not produce a nice speech like a miracle. How direct could she be with a child his age? Then, she heard a baby crying downstairs.

“Right,” Lister said. “Do you remember when your sister or brother was born?”

Willy shook his head. “The stork bringed him. I was sleeping.”

“Alright. Well, when the stork delivered— brought your brother, his life started. But life isn’t limitless. Do you know what limitless means?” 

Again, Willy answered with the shake of his head.

“It means it has an end. Nobody knows when or how, but it happens to everybody one day, and… It happened to your mummy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Willy seemed to think hard. “Is Mummy like Sweeney?”

“Who is Sweeney?” Lister said.

“Mr. Langton's puppy. He died because he was very old.”

So, the boy knew what it was. Even then, Lister couldn’t shake off her hesitation to use such a direct word. “Yes. Like Sweeney.”

“Is this because I forgot to pray before bed sometimes?”

“No. No, it's not your fault.” Lister felt her heart break as she said. “It was never you. Mummy loved you, but she had to go. You never did anything—”

“What are you doing?”

Their heads snapped around to the doorway. The silhouette of Captain Sutherland towered over them, glowing dark as light hit him from behind.

“Sackville, go downstairs.” His tone sounded monotonous.

But Willy didn’t move, shrinking away in Ann’s lap.

“Sackville, do as I say,” Sutherland said. “Stop crying. You're a boy.”

Lister stood up. “With all due respect—”

“And you're his father," Ann said. 

Sutherland bared his teeth in a sneer. “Pardon me?”

Ann gently removed the boy from her lap, stood up, and came between Sutherland and Lister. “We were just doing what you neglected to do as his parent.”

“This is my house. These are my children and my responsibilities. And it is my job to decide how to educate them.”

“He's my nephew. A child of my dear sister." Ann held her head high. “This is not what Elizabeth would’ve wanted. She would’ve wanted them to know the truth, no matter how painful it is.”

Sutherland scoffed, looking around the room almost with disdain. “I see that you’re taking all of her stuff. Good. Take the rest and leave. Take him, too, if that's what you wish. But if you’re not willing to take the full responsibility, I advise you to never give me a lecture about parenting.”

Willy, who had hidden himself behind Lister, clung on to her leg.

Ann seemed to have more to say, but bit her tongue. She took deep breaths, slowly turned away from Sutherland, and knelt at Lister’s feet, putting on a brave smile for the child. “Aunt Ann has to go home. But I promise I’ll come back, okay?”

“Please, don’t go,” Willy said.

“I will see you soon. We can talk on the phone any time you want, too.” Ann held out her pinky for him. “I promise.”

Willy slowly locked pinkies with her whilst he wiped his nose with his sleeve. And then, his puffy eyes looked up at Lister. He extended his arm upward, offering his pinky without a word. Lister knelt down and pinky-promised him.

They left the room with the last two boxes. Lister heard Ann’s shallow breathing and stifled sniffing sound as they whipped down the stairs. By the time they had climbed back into the car seats, that had transformed into full hyperventilation. 

“Ann, deep breaths. Take a deep breath.” Lister took her hand.

Ann seemed to try to speak. But every word got sucked back in with air.

“Hold on.” Lister pulled a paper bag out of the glove box and gave it to her, helping her place it over her mouth and nose. “In. Out. In— Good. Try to breathe more slowly… Good.” 

Her breathing calmed down slowly. Though it was not back to normal, Ann removed the bag from her face and tried to breathe on her own. Lister continued to stroke her back. 

Ann opened her eyes, looking straight ahead with a dazed expression. “I’ve—” A deep breath. “Always wanted to stand up to him. Often used to fantasise about being strong enough to protect Elizabeth.” She laughed through her tears. “I finally could.”

“You could.”

“I— It was my imitation of you, you know? My inner Anne Lister.”

Lister chuckled with her. Her heart felt so full it could burst. 

But something seemed to have caught Ann’s eye. The gleam in those eyes dimmed again, clouded by the familiar colour of uncertainty. Lister followed her line of sight and saw Willy and a bigger child standing by the window, looking at them. He waved at them. 

Lister waved back. It was when an unpleasant thought popped up in her mind. “Does he… Is he a violent man?”

“He never gets physical with them. I know that. But—” 

“But?”

“Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Maybe Captain Sutherland had a plan in mind, and we— I messed it up.”

Lister took her hand out of habit, but struggled for words. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure, either, when you decided to do that. Good Lord, he is so small. I don’t even know how to talk to children about _ anything _.”

Ann gave a soft smile at that. 

“But I think it was the right decision,” Lister said. “We couldn’t have let him grow up with false hope.” 

A faint sigh fell from Ann’s lips as she watched the children. “He’s going to tell his sister.”

“They both deserve to know the truth.”

Ann hummed. Her lips curled up in a slightly teasing smile, then. “You know your Yorkshire accent is coming out, right?”

“No, it’s not,” Lister said, now conscious of every syllable. 

“You were gradually slipping back into it at your father’s house. But talking to Willy, you sounded so cute.”

“Hmm. I worked hard to lose it, though.”

“I’ve never met anyone who has lost their accent completely. I think it’s beautiful. I love it.” Ann nodded as if talking to herself. “You sound identical to Marian.”

“Okay, that’s… the greatest insult.”

Ann giggled. “I meant that as a compliment.”

“It’s not.” Lister gave her a playful lift of her brow. 

They both looked back towards the house. The children waved at them again. Lister waved back, smiling until they smiled back. 

The engine of the truck growled, then. The brick house quickly grew smaller in the car mirrors. Although the car felt heavy with the boxes, the air had a kind of lightness to it. Something that had come along with them from Halifax—and possibly from London—was now gone. Lister felt light, finally free from invisible shackles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing? Next week (hopefully), we will have The Chapter!!! Stay safe till then 😎


	30. Is this how you used to sneak girls in?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last night in Halifax. The Lister sisters attempt to have fun. Ann has been thinking about stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might need tissues? Do I need to tag NSFW now, hmm? Also, to my surprise, this happened to be the final chapter. HAHA  
TW: mention of bullying and other stuff.

This change didn’t seem to reside only in Lister. Something about Ann also seemed changed. In her attitude, in her laughter, in the way she looked at Lister. 

Something was different. No doubt. Whether it was good or bad was another question, which Lister had difficulties figuring out. If it was the same serenity that Lister felt, good. If it was something else, something negative… Lister feared the possibility that the visit to Elizabeth’s house, and challenging Captain Sutherland, might have had a detrimental effect on her already fragile mental state. 

None of them wanted—deserved—a repeat of what happened in last autumn. 

“What’s on your mind?” Lister would ask her, always holding her hands or maintaining some kind of physical contact.

But Ann would offer another one of her many reticent smiles and shake her head. It didn’t matter where they were, what they were doing, what time it was, or whether or not in the company of others. Ann’s answer was always elusive.

“It’s hard to say.”

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

Ann would shrug. “This is enough.”

It was not enough for Lister, but she had no choice but to resign herself to whatever Ann was willing to share. There was something she was oblivious to. That, she was sure of.

It was the last night at her father’s house. While Marian and Ann did the dishes as a team, Lister put the kettle on and made three cups of tea. 

Marian took one and said to Ann, “What do you want to do now? Jigsaw puzzle? I unearthed one today. It's of a spaceship.”

Ann took her cup, flashing an appreciative smile at Lister. “Um, I’m going outside. I have things to think about.”

“Alright,” Marian said. “Don’t go too far, though.”

“I’ll be out on the bench. Don’t worry.”

Lister watched her walk off, while Marian went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the top of it. Without a care in the world, she proceeded to concoct an abomination that was a tea-infused alcoholic drink. 

For now, however, Lister’s repulsion must take a backseat. “Do you think she’s alright?” 

Marian tilted her head.

“She’s been thinking a lot the past couple of days.”

“Oh. She’ll tell us if something's wrong. She’s an introvert. I can't begin to imagine how exhausting it must be to spend not a day but a week with strangers. Give her time.”

Still, it did not convince Lister. “I’m just a bit concerned. There’s a different air about her.” 

“Different, how?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Why me?”

Lister frowned in annoyance. “I don’t know. Maybe because you two seem to tell each other everything and anything?”

“Oh, jealous much?” With her cup, Marian walked out of the kitchen. “Just because she has you back doesn’t mean she considers me less of a friend. I’m not a disposable tear-wipe, and she isn’t like that.”

Lister followed her to the living room. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Admit you’re jealous, though?”

Standing by the window, Lister glared at her sister.

Marian scowled in imitation of her before sitting at the table with a box of a jigsaw puzzle. “I mean— To answer your question, she’s wearing Mum’s ring, so…” She gave a theatrical shrug.

“What does that mean?” Lister thought about it, and said in a serious tone, “Are you saying that ring is haunted?”

“Remind me, how did anyone respect you as a CEO?”

How heartless her sister was. Despicable.

“It was just a question,” she mumbled.

Lister turned her back on her. Out of the window, she watched the faint shadow of Ann on the bench placed in the front garden area. But it was too dark outside. The window reflected the light from the inside of the room. Her focus was robbed by the reflection of Marian settling on the sofa, spreading the puzzle pieces on the table.

Since there was nothing else to do besides waiting for Ann to come in, Lister sat with her sister. This would be a calming distraction, or so she thought. 

Thirty minutes in, an argument erupted.

“Stop being ridiculous, Marian. You have got to do the borders first. Borders, and then the inside!”

“Who cares? Stop yelling. People are sleeping.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m just enlightening you with a strategy for the maximum jigsaw efficiency—”

“We are killing time. We don’t need efficiency.”

“Yes, we do.”

Marian poured vodka into her empty cup. “No, we don’t.”

“You’re too drunk for this.”

“What are you going to do? Call the puzzle police for puzzling under the influence? Hmm?”

“I’m done with you,” Lister said. 

The legs of the chair scratched against the floor as she jumped to her feet. She stomped to the window and looked out to the front garden, creating an umbrella with her hands held above her eyes to see better. Her eyes had adjusted to the bright light. She couldn’t even discern the bench. 

“Is she still there?” Marian said from her seat. 

“I think so. I don’t know.” Her breath fogged the window. She wiped it and continued to squint into the dark. “Do you suppose I should go check on her?” 

“Yeah. She must be freezing. Bring her a nice cuppa.”

Lister removed herself from the window and went to the kitchen. After making a hot cup of tea, she tiptoed through the hallways with it in her hands, careful not to spill it. She opened the heavy door.

Now, where the bench must be, a glimmer of light from Ann’s smartphone screen showed her the way. Closing the door behind her silently, she took measured steps. The darkness made it quite difficult, though. She could feel the tea undulating. She might or might not have uttered expletives under her breath. As if on cue, her path soon became illuminated. Lister looked up. A beam of light was coming from Ann’s phone. 

“Thank you,” Lister said, walking the rest of the path with relative ease. She handed the cup, but hesitated to sit down. “So, have you been able to do the thinking?”

Ann hummed, taking a sip of her tea. “I was re-reading the texts from Elizabeth. And looking through her old photos. I finished digitalising them this afternoon.”

“Right.” When Lister inhaled, the cold air gave a sting in her lungs. “Could you possibly do the rest of it inside? Your fingers are cold. I’d hate for you to get sick.”

Instead of answering, Ann turned off her smartphone flashlight. “So many shooting stars in the short span of time I’ve been here.”

“Yeah.” Lister, accepting Ann’s nonverbal answer, sat down on the bench. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. 

“The sky in the city isn’t… transcendent like this.” 

“No, it isn’t.”

“I wonder what it's like here in a meteor shower. Maybe it'd be— There!” Ann said in an excited, but hushed voice. “Another one. Did you see it?”

Lister’s head snapped up. “Erm, no. I missed it.” She had been busy tracing the bleary outline of her profile with her eyes. 

Her soft chuckle echoed. “There'll be more. I’ve made so many wishes already.”

“Have you? Care to share?”

“No. They won’t come true if I did that.”

“Just one? Perhaps I could make that come true.”

Ann found her hand. Her voice had a smile to it. “You already did.”

Feeling an overwhelming surge of affection, Lister sandwiched her hand between both of hers in order to warm it. The ring felt like ice.

“You know,” Ann said with a sober note in her voice, “I used to wish and _beg_ the universe that one day you would notice me and maybe be my friend. Every day I wished for a miracle because… I was bullied in school, for my orientation. I was always the odd one out. Then, my parents died all of a sudden. I felt so alone. I wished I could just disappear because clearly, this life was not for me.” 

While Ann went on, often choking on her words, Lister kept her mouth closed. No word she could utter was worth interrupting her speech. She just kept holding her hand instead, caressing the back of it. 

“Then, I found you, on the telly," Ann said. “You were followed around by paparazzi for something you weren’t responsible for. People were nasty to you, but you stood up for yourself. And seeing that, it was… revolutionary. And even though I didn’t know what it was that I felt for you at that time, I knew you'd be part of my life.”

Lister vaguely wondered if Ann was referring to the one time she spin-kicked a paps square in the face and obliterated his camera.

“So, you see, you saved my life. Literally. I would’ve done anything to pay you back. It didn't matter if you hurt me or lied to me because this life might as well be yours, right? But Marian said— Well, _I_ believe that my life shouldn’t depend on you. It never should have.”

“No.”

“No.” Ann heaved a sigh. “Part of me still wishes that was true, though. I so badly wanted it to be you that I’d sacrifice my life for.”

Her speech was going in all the directions that Lister felt disoriented. If there was light nearby, she could read Ann’s face and have a general idea of where this would land. But there was nothing. Only the twinkling stars. A long-dead star shot across the sky before her eyes, too fast for her to even think about making a wish.

“Are you,” Lister said, “giving me your answer now? Is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“Okay.” Lister tried not to cry. This was a rejection speech. “I mean, I’m glad you finally came to a decision. If this is what you want…”

“Yes.” 

Lister was about to separate their hands, then, when Ann said,

“I’m still scared, if I’m honest. Terrified. And I know people will call me naive, willing to trust a person who has hurt me so quickly.”

“Wha—”

“But this is the only way of being I know. So, I will trust you, not blindly”—she took a deep breath and stood up—“but fearlessly.”

Lister gaped at the silhouette of her face. It took several long moments for it to dawn on her. And when it finally did, the lump in her throat grew large, almost painfully so. She brought Ann’s hand to her lips and planted one long kiss. She then placed it over her own chest.

“I love you,” Lister said, and it felt so right.

Ann cupped her cheek with her hand. Her scarred hand. “Don’t hurt me,” she said. “I can take it. I’m not as fragile as you think—” Her voice cracked. “But I don’t want to.”

And before Lister could find her voice, Ann ducked her head and kissed her. 

…

Marian had gone to bed when they returned inside. Lister led Ann across the dark house, taking her shoes off at the foot of the stairs to silence her footsteps. Argus came from his bed in the living room, but Lister ordered him to stay downstairs. Neither of them spoke any more.

Upstairs, she made them walk on the left side of the hallway, which did not creak as badly as the right side. She pushed the bedroom door open while lifting it slightly. The rusty hinges still let loose a screech. It screeched even loudly when it closed. The sound of the latch clicking into the strike plate pierced through the stillness of the night, but there was no more.

Lister turned the lights on. At last, they could see each other. 

Ann peeked through her wet eyelashes, a faint smile on her lips. “Is this how you used to sneak girls in?”

The question threw her for a loop.

“You know I don’t mind hearing those things,” Ann said. “I like it. Knowing about your life before me. It feels like… reading the prequel to my favourite book.” 

Lister kissed her, pinning her against the wall. Her lips felt cold, but her breath warm. Her hands came to rest on Lister’s chest, and pushed. Pushed her backwards with just enough force until the back of her knees hit the mattress. Lister sat down. She looked up. The intensity in Ann’s gaze set her aflame in the core. 

Ann climbed onto her lap and re-connected their lips. Her cold fingers draw a faint line from Lister’s cheeks to the base of her neck. She began to unbutton her shirt. 

Lister watched her do it, too mesmerised to take her eyes off her or lift a finger in a literal sense. The shirt came off. Ann’s thumb drew small circles along the upper band of her sport bra. 

“Ah, cold.” Lister laughed.

Ann quickly withdrew her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lister took her hands and guided them to the bare skin of her lower back. “My body is always warm for a reason.” She found Ann’s lips again, feeling her squeeze her thighs on either side of her hips. “We must be quiet. Marian is possibly still awake.”

Ann nodded. 

Never in her wildest dream had she ever imagined having sex with Ann in her father’s house, with her sister in the next room. She had done it with other girls. But Ann was different. It made her feel self-conscious, which was a first for her. 

And this also felt like their first time, characterised by a distinctive sense of familiarity. She knew what made Ann arch her back. She knew every inch of her body, more than Ann herself did. Like the freckles on her eyelids that Lister loved kissing. Parts of her that Ann couldn’t see, she cherished and admired them like divine secrets. 

At the same time, there was a tension, born between the excitement and anxiety after the period of separation. Like coming back to the house she grew up in after many years. Ann felt like home. 

Lister grazed her teeth over her collarbones and heard Ann’s breath hitch. The beginning of a moan was already curling up in the back of her throat. It was never easy for Ann to keep quiet. 

Lister toyed with the waistband of her underwear. “I’m going to touch you now, alright? Bite me if you need to scream.”

Her response came out mixed with a groan.

Lister’s hand wandered downward. The familiar warmth soon met her fingers. It intoxicated her, and even more so when Ann sank her teeth into her shoulder before the vibration of her moan travelled through the bones. They held on to each other.

“I love you,” Lister said, and felt Ann shudder and clench around her. She stayed inside the way Ann always wanted her to.

Ann kissed where the bite mark was now undoubtedly forming. “Make me come again.”

So, she did. With their clothes off. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. 

…

Both of them yawned in sync as they carried their luggage down the stairs the next morning. Her father and Aunt were in the living room, taking a post-breakfast nap. Marian was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Marian?” Lister asked them.

“In here!” said Marian from the kitchen.

“We are leaving in ten minutes,” Lister said. She turned to Ann and gently took her bag. “You could wait here. I’ll get the car ready. Argus, come on, boy.” 

Through the open door, she let the dog out. While he took care of his business, she got her Bugatti closer to the house and loaded their bags into it. A couple of Elizabeth’s boxes occupied most of the trunk space. They would take as much as possible, but her car wasn’t designed for a large amount of luggage. The rest of the boxes had to stay here for a time, to be delivered to London. 

Closing the trunk, Lister looked around. “Argus!” she shouted.

He soon came running back. 

“Let’s go say bye to the old people.” Lister rushed him inside, striding to the living room. 

To her annoyance, however, Marian had yet to get ready. In her Dexter apron, she even had the audacity to sit at the table with Ann, shoving two cookies in her mouth at once. 

“What are you doing?” Lister said. “I told you we were leaving in ten minutes.”

Marian seemed unfazed. “Yeah?”

“Where is your luggage?”

“I’m not going back with you,” Marian said as though it was already a widely-known fact. “You’ll be fine on your own. I mean, you two. Without me.”

“Oh.” Lister glanced over at the other people. She seemed to be the only one surprised. “When did you decide this?”

“Before leaving London— Seriously, why did you think I had packed all of my stuff I had at Annie’s place?”

“You’ve always been an inefficient traveller.”

“We clearly have different definitions of efficiency— Anyroad, I am staying.”

“She just told me, too,” Ann said. “I had an inkling, but I didn’t want to presume anything.”

Lister frowned at her sister. “Why couldn’t you have told me sooner? I saved room for your bags in the trunk, for nothing.”

Marian shrugged her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure until last night. Well— I mean, last night…” Her face became devoid of emotions as she stared into space, cookie crumbs falling from the corner of her mouth.

Ann quickly gave Lister a meek look. Regrettably, it clicked for Lister as well. Last night, they had not been quiet enough.

“What happened last night?” her father said.

“Nothing,” Lister and Marian said in chorus. They looked at each other. “Happened,” they again said together, and threw each other a disgusted look. 

Aunt chuckled as she petted Argus. “This feels just like when you two were still little. Always bickering.”

“We never bickered, nor are we bickering now,” Lister said. She clapped her hands once. “Well, this is great news.” She wouldn’t last long if Marian and Ann kept ganging up on her like they had done the past week. “Shall we go, Ann?”

Ann stood up and shook hands with her father in a cordial manner. The goodbye was more sentimental with Aunt, who pulled her into a hug. 

“Thank you for having me,” Ann said to them. “This was the best holiday I’d had in a long time.”

“Come back any time,” her father said. “Even if you fall out with my daughter, you’ll always be welcome here.”

Ann beamed at him. “I will remember that.”

All of them except her father moved to the foyer, standing next to Elizabeth’s boxes piled up by the wall.

Lister threw her coat over her shoulders. “I've already had everything dealt with,” she said, gesturing at the boxes. “They will come pick them up tomorrow. No action required on your part.”

Without a word, Marian held some green object in front of her. It was the scarf.

“Oh.” Lister took it. “You finished it.” 

“It ended up a little too long. I didn’t mean it to, but I desperately needed something to help me meditate last night.”

Feeling awkward, Lister could only nod while Ann did the same. But the feeling melted away when she buried her fingers in the warm wool. She remembered the first time she had learned of this scarf, in Ann’s house, braving to embrace her vulnerability and talk about their mother. 

She wrapped it around her neck. “Well, I suppose this is where I say”—she continued to look anywhere but at her sister—“thank you.”

“It’s always appropriate to say thank you to Marian,” Marian said.

Lister rolled her eyes as she fiddled with the scarf. “God, this gives me an itch.”

“Remember, Annie picked the colours.” Marian then looked at Ann. 

The atmosphere grew solemn. Ann flung herself into her arms, and Marian gave her gentle pats on her back.

“You’ll be alright,” Marian said.

Ann gave a nod, separated their bodies, and put on a tearful smile. 

“You’ll be alright,” Marian said again, and jerked her chin at Lister. “Take care of her for me, will you?”

“I will.” 

Lister couldn’t help but tilt her head. “I thought I’d be taking care of her?” she said to her sister.

Marian snickered. “Oh, please. She’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”

“I’m a grown woman, too.”

“Debatable.”

“Great. I’m not going to justify myself to you.” Lister turned on her heel and opened the door, guiding Argus and Ann out. She whipped around to give Aunt a quick peck on the cheek, and strode out of the house. 

In her Bugatti, the passenger seat seemed crowded as Ann had to share it with Argus. Though the legroom was big enough for his giant body, she still had to put her feet on him to get comfortable. 

“I’m thinking,” Lister said, settling into the driver’s seat, “when we get back, we should buy a new car. This is nice. I’ve had it for years. But it may be time to buy something more practical. A car with more than two seats and more cargo space.”

An eager smile crept across Ann’s lips. “I like that idea,” she said. “How about an SUV? We can go camping with Argus and Marian.”

“If you like.” 

“What colour would you pick? I wanted a pink car as a child.”

“I am not driving through London in a pink car,” Lister said, laughing, and started the engine. “I have a reputation to uphold. Well, maybe dark pink…”

“How about lavender?”

“Dark lavender— We’ll decide at the dealership, okay?”

The car slowly rolled forward. Ann rolled down the window and waved at Marian and Aunt one last time, and kept waving until the car reached the end of the pebbled driveway. The front door had gone out of sight. 

“Have they gone inside?” Lister said.

“Yeah.”

She took the scarf off and dropped it into her lap. “Good Lord, I’m so hot.”

Ann picked up the scarf and put it on. “You’re so pretty.”

“Hmm?” Lister chuckled despite her confusion “No one has ever called me pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty. Very pretty,” Ann said. “In a certain light.”

Lister burst out laughing. “You truly know how to win a woman’s heart.”

“I do. What do you want for dinner?”

“Curry.”

“Curry it is.”

…

When they arrived back at home in London, Lister unlocked the door with her own spare key. 

“Welcome home,” Ann said.

…

… 

The winter jasmine seemed to grow at a more rapid rate since their return. First it grew skyward, and when the branches could no longer support their own weight, they bowed their heads, forming into arches like fireworks.

Lister cared for it, checked for any abnormalities and any signs of forming buds multiple times a day. It seemed to entertain Ann.

“You look so cute acting like a jasmine expert,” she said teasingly once. 

“Not an expert, obviously. But it never hurts to care.”

“You’re not over-watering it, are you?”

“No,” Lister said and raised her eyebrows. “Unless you are watering it behind my back.”

Ann laughed. “You’re silly.”

In the middle of January, then, the house welcomed the arrival of their first flowers in the studio. The tiny yellow petals were as vibrant as the green of the leaves. The sight set Lister buzzing with exhilaration. But she had made it a rule to never bother Ann while she was working. She waited until Ann decided to take a break.

“Adney, look.” Lister led her to the flower pot. She hugged her from behind as Ann observed the flowers. 

“Oh, I assumed the petals would be white,” Ann said in a curious tone, “like the regular jasmine.” 

“I thought the same, too, until recently. I told this to Marian, and she laughed. That genius knew it from the beginning.”

“She knows everything.” Ann regarded the flowers. “It’s strange. The flowers look familiar.”

“You’ve seen it before very likely. This species grows everywhere. It’s just that we have never paid much attention to it before.” 

With a nod, Ann rested her head back on Lister’s shoulder. “I like it this way, though. Very lively. I’m happy you chose it.”

Lister felt the same. Even if the selection of the flower might have been accidental, even if her expectations for it might have been different, she now couldn’t imagine any other outcomes. This was their flower. It would continue to grow bigger and bigger.

Lister gently wrapped her fingers around Ann’s wrist and brought her hand to her lips. From the back of it to the inside of her wrist to the palm, and to each of the fingertips.

Ann giggled. “That tickles.” She took Lister’s hand, and she kissed her exactly the same way.

_[FIN]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank each and every one of you who have followed me to the end of this very emotionally exhausting journey. I cannot express my gratitude eloquently enough (ironic, I know), but I seriously believe this story wouldn’t have evolved like this without your encouraging and thought-provoking comments. Thank you. I’m very proud to be part of this fandom. Love you all. 💚
> 
> I'll miss talking to you awesome peeps. Stop by my Tumblr cave (extra-mt16.tumblr.com) if you'd like a chat!


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